


We Both Know I'm Too Young for You

by shallowlives



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dubious Consent, Eating Disorders, It's really messed up, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, graphic depictions of roadkill??, this does NOT romanticize teacher/student relationships, this is the weird result of trauma I didn’t know I had until later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shallowlives/pseuds/shallowlives
Summary: Gabe’s eyes drop to William’s lips, and without saying a word, William immediately knows what he means. His heart pounds in his ears, thuds and rattles against his rib cage, and his entire body is stiflingly hot.“For extra… extra credit?” William asks, voice trembling.“That’s all you’d have to do,” Gabe promises. “Kiss me and nothing more. But it’s your choice, of course.”-----------William Beckett wants his senior year to be different. Hooking up with the new Spanish teacher, Gabe Saporta, is definitely different. However, as their relationship progresses much too quickly, William finds it's not all he imagined it to be.
Relationships: William Beckett/Gabe Saporta
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	We Both Know I'm Too Young for You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the culmination of me accidentally buying and reading not one, not two, but three books in a row about teens being taken advantage of by their teachers? Yikes. And then I wrote this fucked up shit. I'm really sorry.
> 
> If you didn't read the tags, I do NOT romanticize this. This fic gets into very dark and rape-y territory, and there's some light eating disorder elements, so don't say I didn't warn you. And there's quite a bit of descriptions of roadkill that could be upsetting to some people? Anyways, don't get too mad at me, I'm warning you now not to read it if you can't handle this stuff.
> 
> **Hotlines and resources for eating disorders: https://edresources.carrd.co/**

The scent of crisp autumn leaves waft through the air, a smell that William Beckett can almost taste on his tongue. It’s the aroma of something new, of the first day of school.

This year is going to be different. William can feel it like a whisper in his bones.

What exactly about this year he wants to be different, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t have much of a plan besides continuing his experience of earning half-decent grades, messing around with his friends, and a little songwriting here and there. But _something_ will be different.

Homeroom is the same familiar lull, the same room of the same people he’s gotten used to for the last three years. His schedule sits at his usual desk. William’s already seen it online, already screenshotted it on his phone and looked over it a million times, but he glances over it anyway.

As William’s eyes skim the paper, Mike Carden drifts into the room and plunks his backpack onto the desk next to William’s. He’s holding a half-eaten chocolate donut, crumbs spilling onto his own schedule. A mouthful of pastry, he asks William, “What do you got for first period?”

“Spanish 1,” William says. “With some guy named Mr. Saporta.”

“Mr. Saporta?” Mike tilts his head slightly. “Must be that new teacher.” And he tears another bite off his donut, the glaze making his lips glisten unappealingly. “Why are you taking Spanish, anyway? You already took French.”

“And failed,” William reminds him. “I still need a language credit to graduate. Spanish is easier than French, anyway; how hard can it be?”

Mike shrugs. “I don’t know. At least you didn’t get Ms. Asher, though. I had her for Spanish freshman and sophomore year. All she does is show you videos and talk about her year abroad instead of actually fucking teaching.”

“Hopefully Mr. Saporta’s different, then.”

“Well, there’s no way he can possibly be worse,” Mike assures him. William nods in agreement as the homeroom bell clangs.

After homeroom, William climbs the staircase to the third floor, where the foreign language hallway is located. His legs are weak like jelly after a lazy summer of lounging on the couch, and he stumbles up the last few steps, trying to collect his breath before pressing onward through the crowd of students. His eyes dart side-to-side as he roams in search of Room 303.

Room 303 is at the end of the hallway. A tall, lean man stands in front of the door to the room, telling each student that walks in, “Bienvenidos!” with a bright grin. And he has closely-cut black curly hair, and olive skin, and long legs, and _gorgeous_ light pink lips-- and damn, all William can think about is how badly he’ll fuck up in this class in front of this man.

“¡Bienvenidos!” Mr. Saporta tells William as he comes to the door. “Hey, are you an upperclassman?”

William’s eyes glance into the classroom for a moment, the majority of the students being small freshmen he barely knows. “Yeah,” he says, barely above a mutter. “I’m a senior.”

He can feel his heart flutter when something like a smirk crosses Gabe’s lips, but only for a brief second before the ordinary grin returns. “That’s great! It’s never too late to learn a new language, you know. The seating assignments are on the board.”

“Thanks,” William mutters, too flustered to keep eye contact as he hurries into the classroom, and tugs his backpack straps tighter. If he already feels like _this,_ so anxious and guilty yet so light and palpitating, after just a few sentences, how will he survive an entire year with Mr. Saporta?

William’s seat is in the middle row of the classroom, just one desk away from the window overlooking freshly-laid turf, orange trees and the cool gray sky framing it. He’s next to a freshman named Ryan, a skinny kid with emo-like brown hair swept across his forehead, shrunken into himself with his arms crossed and shoulders narrowed protectively, eyes flickering up with a sudden bout of paranoia every few seconds before looking back down.

William settles into his seat. As he waits for class to begin, he skims over the class syllabus that’s been set on his desk before taking in the classroom. The walls are pale green, decked in various brightly-colored posters of conjugations and sentence structure. On the white board on the wall across from the windows, there’s a drawing William recognizes vaguely as the outline of some South American country, filled in with the pattern of its flag in squiggles of blue and yellow erasable markers. Next to it, on the board has been scrawled _Bienvenidos a NUESTRA clase :)_

The bell rings, and Mr. Saporta walks into the classroom, an air of confidence in his step. “¡Buenos días!” he greets exuberantly. “I’m Mr. Saporta, your Spanish 1 teacher. But you can all call me Gabe, no need for formalities. Before we read over the syllabus together, how about we start off with an icebreaker? Say your name, grade, and something you’re excited for this year.”

The introductions start off at the front of the classroom, all generic freshmen responses of being freshman and being excited to finally be in high school or finally not in middle school. By the time it’s nearly William’s turn, a nervousness bubbles up in his stomach as he listens to Ryan’s own stuttering introduction. It’s becoming increasingly more evident William is the only senior in the class, and therefore he feels like he’s going to be the most stupid.

And then William realizes it’s silent, and Ryan’s finished his introduction, and everyone is now looking at _William._ Including Gabe. Oh, fuck.

“I’m William,” he says, finally looking up from his desk to meet Gabe’s sharp eyes. “I’m a senior. And something I’m excited for this year… I guess is to make it different, since it’s my last year and all.”

Gabe nods approvingly, gaze lingering before his eyes move onto the next student, and something akin to pride swells in William’s chest. Why, he has no idea, but all he can think about is just the _way_ Gabe nodded. There was something about it, _something._

“Now, I guess I’ll properly introduce myself!” Gabe says. “I’m Gabe, as you all know. I was born in Montevideo, Uruguay.” He picks up a ruler from the chalkboard and points to a map of South America. “Which is right there, and I moved to the States when I was a kid. I grew up in New York City before moving to New Jersey, and then I went to Rutgers for a couple of years to get my teaching degree. In the meantime, I was in a couple bands here and there-- and yes, you can google it if you really want to-- and after I graduated last year with my masters degree, I moved here to teach all of you in the lovely Chicago suburbs.”

And then they go over the syllabus, and before William knows it, class is over. He can feel eyes following him as he stands up, and then Gabe calls out, “William, could I talk to you for a second?”

William tries not to look too startled, but the way his cheeks burn is unmistakable. “Uh, sure.”

When the last student has left, Gabe shuts the classroom door gently and makes his way to where William is stood, still frozen at his desk.

“What is it, Mr. S— I mean, Gabe?”

“I know you failed French,” Gabe says. A cold shiver runs down William’s spine. He knows, and William wants to die right about now. “It’s okay, though. I know French is hard, I did take a class or two in college. But you’re a senior, and I bet you don’t want that to happen again, right?”

William inhales through his nose, steeling himself so he can say, “Right.”

“Good,” Gabe says. There’s something heavy in his voice, something else spilling over into his tone, something very un-teacherlike that William can’t pinpoint. “I’m glad to hear that. I’d like to help you out, to make sure you pass this class. If you ever need anything, you come ask me, okay? My after school hours are on the syllabus, and I’m always available during class and lunch, too.”

William gives him a nervous smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. I’m your teacher, William, I’m here to help you learn. I don’t just want you to merely pass, I want you to learn a little bit of Spanish along the way, too.” Gabe’s hand lands on William’s shoulder, his cool thumb rubbing lightly on the skin exposed by his shirt collar. At first, William tenses, but within a second he slowly relaxes into the feeling before Gabe’s touch is gone as quickly as it came. “Do you understand?”

William swallows. “Yes.”

“Good.” Gabe’s eyes flicker down, across William’s body and then to his lips, admiring for a second before he finally meets his eyes again. Something in his gaze has changed. “I know you said you want your year to be different, William, and if you listen to me, I’m sure it will.” He takes a step back. “Well, that’s all I have to say. I’ll let you get to your next class now.”

“Th—thank you,” William stammers before he pulls his crumpled schedule out of his pocket and races out of the classroom.

William’s standing in the lunchline, his friends behind him as he grabs a milk carton and Mike asks, _“Sooo,_ what’d you think of the new teacher?”

“Mr. Saporta?” William moves up the line, waiting for the cash register as he speaks. “He seems really cool.”

“Isn’t he _hot?”_ Sisky asks. He’s behind Carden in line, taking an orange. “I had him for third period. No way that dude should be a teacher.”

William shrugs, hoping his cheeks won’t burn again and give everything away. “I guess he’s sorta hot,” he admits, recalling the way Gabe’s thumb had stroked across his thumb, a feeling that has refused to abandon him all day.

The first week of class goes by smoothly, almost as if the first day was some sort of rare occurrence. Gabe teaches normally and talks to William like any other student he has, cracking the occasional joke to him and keeping an appropriate distance whenever William needs help with a worksheet.

And then, on Tuesday, they have their first vocabulary quiz.

The room is silent as William stares down at his blank quiz. He thought he wouldn’t have needed to study, but all he can remember how to say is _me llamo William, ¿y tú?_ and that’s it. That’s all. He doesn’t remember what _encantado_ means, or what _más o menos_ means, or any of it. William can say hi, say his name, and say bye, and that’s basically it.

He makes a few horrible guesses and turns in the quiz when twenty minutes have passed, making him one of the last few students to finish his test. Gabe gives him a light smile as William places it on the pile at his desk. “Thank you, William.”

William nods ashamedly and walks back to his seat. He starts twirling his pen between his fingers. He’s going to fail and he knows it.

When the last quiz has been handed in a few minutes later, Gabe tells the class, “You all can speak now.”

William doesn’t expect to have to say anything, but then Ryan from the desk next to him asks, “How do you think ‘ya did on the quiz?”

“Like shit,” William says. “And you?”

“Oh man, that sucks,” Ryan says apologetically. “I think I did alright-ish.”

The bell rings when the period is over. William’s standing up, when Gabe’s voice comes from right behind him, asking, “William, could you come to my room during lunch?”

“Lunch?” William spins around. He could spot the concern in Gabe’s soft stare from a mile away. This is definitely about the quiz. “Yeah… sure.”

After Physics, William texts his friends’ groupchat that he’ll be missing lunch today and makes a beeline for Gabe’s room. He doesn’t know why he’s in such a hurry.

When William meekly steps into the empty classroom, Gabe says, “Nice to see you. Shut the door behind you and take a seat by my desk.”

William closes the door and takes the chair at the desk nearest to Gabe’s. Gabe finishes up an essay he’s been occupied grading and pushes it aside before taking the pile of Spanish 1 quizzes and leafing through it. He plucks out William’s paper and sets it down, sliding it in William’s direction. A big red 56% adorns the top of the page. Softly, Gabe asks, “William, what happened? I don’t want this class to be a repeat of French for you.”

William stares down the 56%. “I… I guess I didn’t study. I should have, though.”

Gabe nods. “You need to get caught up before the test, or you’re going to get left behind on just Unit 1. And I can tell you, that wouldn’t be very good.”

“I’ll study for the test,” William promises. “I swear.”

“Good.” And then that _something_ has creeped into Gabe’s voice again. “You know, I have an idea. Could I have your phone number?”

William’s eyes finally leave the circled grade on his paper, furrowing his eyebrows at Gabe. “My phone number? Why?”

“To hold you accountable. I think you’d study more if you had me asking you about it, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” William says. “I guess that makes sense.”

Gabe picks up his cellphone. “So, what’s your number?”

William tells him, and Gabe puts it into his phone and texts William a simple hola so he can save Gabe’s number. Afterward, Gabe puts his cellphone down and that’s when William expects the meeting to be over. But it’s clear it’s far from over when Gabe opens his mouth again.

“I don’t want you to start off the quarter with a grade like this,” Gabe says. “You’re a good student, William. I know you can do better than this. There are ways you could earn… extra credit.”

Without missing a beat, William innocently asks, “What do I have to do?”

Gabe beckons with his finger. “Come here.”

William slowly gets up, walking a few steps forward until he’s right in front of Gabe. Gabe stands up as well, the few inches of height he has over William causing him to loom above almost like a storm cloud, lightning ready to strike at any minute.

“Eres _muy_ inteligente, William,” Gabe croons, taking a strand of William’s long hair and twisting it around his finger. His eyes meet William’s as he adds, “Y guapo.”

“What does that mean?” William asks, entranced by the way his hair is winding between Gabe’s hand.

“Good-looking.”

William’s cheeks turn hot. “Really?”

“Sí,” Gabe mutters. He leans in, their faces just a few mere inches apart. His warm breath ghosts over William’s skin. “Quiero besarte.”

“What… what does that mean?”

Gabe’s eyes drop to William’s lips, and without saying a word, William immediately knows what he means. His heart pounds in his ears, thuds and rattles against his rib cage, and his entire body is stiflingly hot.

“For extra… extra credit?” William asks, voice trembling.

“That’s all you’d have to do,” Gabe promises. “Kiss me and nothing more. But it’s your choice, of course.”

William knows he should _not_ kiss a teacher. A teacher should _not_ want to kiss him.

But this isn’t just any teacher, this is Gabe. Cool, young, hot Gabe. And William will take any extra credit he can get.

“Okay.”

“Good,” Gabe says, his voice dark. He cups William’s cheek, his touch almost scalding, and leans forward to press his lips to William’s.

The kiss starts off slow, Gabe’s mouth gentle, coaxing William into it. And William starts to kiss back, and that’s when it starts to get heated. Suddenly, Gabe’s lips are moving faster, desperate, his tongue slipping right between William’s lips and licking at his teeth. He tastes faintly of dark chocolate.

Gabe’s free hand lands on William’s waist, hooking his finger through the loop of his jeans and tugging William’s body closer to him. Embarrassingly, William moans right into Gabe’s mouth, causing Gabe to break from the kiss for a mere moment. William is almost convinced he did something wrong until he feels the way Gabe’s lips curve upward against his and a whisper of, “You’re so good, William, so good,” before his lips melt right back.

If this is a dream, William doesn’t want to wake up.

Finally, Gabe slows the kiss before he pulls away. Spit dribbles down William’s chin, and he quickly reaches up to wipe it off on the back of his hand.

“That wasn’t so hard,” Gabe remarks. “Easy extra credit. It was fun,” he narrows his eyes at William, filled with an indeterminable type of thirst. “Right?”

A tiny, coy smile forms at William’s flushed lips. “Yeah.”

“I’ll let you head off to lunch now. Make sure you study tonight though, okay? I’ll call you.”

William nods. “O...okay.”

“What’d Gabe wanna talk to you about?” Sisky asks, as William is finally taking a seat at their usual lunch table, squeezing himself between Butcher and Mike.

“I failed my vocab quiz,” William says. He picks up his apple, tossing it between his two hands. “That’s pretty much all. But he gave me extra credit, so that’s good.”

“Extra credit?” Sisky’s eyebrows furrow. “He told our class that he doesn’t give extra credit.”

“Maybe because you’re in Spanish 5,” William says. “My class is filled with a bunch of stupid freshmen.”

Sisky shrugs, brushing it off, and Butcher asks, “What did you have to do for extra credit?”

“Nothing,” William quickly says, looking down at his apple and rolling it between the palms of his hands. He can feel everyone shooting him weird looks, and he quickly corrects himself. “I mean, we just had like, a conversation in Spanish. That’s all.” And it technically _isn’t_ a lie, although Gabe was the one speaking all the Spanish and calling him _inteligente_ and _guapo._

“That’s all it took?” Sisky asks.

William stops rolling the apple, instead starting to toy with the stem and twist it as he says, “Yep.”

The first thing William does when he gets home, surprisingly, is study. He sits himself down at his desk, turns on some music to play softly in the background as he pulls out his sheet of Spanish vocabulary and starts to make himself flashcards on a stack of index cards.

 _Hola._ Hello. _Adios._ Bye. _¿Cómo estás?_ How are you? (Informal).

Just as William’s finishing up his last flashcard, his cellphone starts ringing and he quickly shuts off the music with one hand, picks up his cellphone with the other. As expected, it’s Gabe.

“Hey!” Gabe says. “Sorry if I caught you in the middle of something. I just got home and I… I don’t know, I just didn’t want to wait to call you.”

“No, it’s fine,” William says. “I was just making some flashcards. Of, um, the vocabulary.”

“I’m glad to know you’re studying like you promised me,” Gabe says. “You’re so much more responsible than all the other kids in the class.”

“I… uh, thanks?”

“I had to be a teaching assistant last year to a Spanish class, and it was mostly seniors, mind you, and almost all of them never studied or had missing assignments. Oh, and this was an _honors_ class, too. But you, you’re different. You turn in all your homework on time and you’re actually trying to improve your grades. You actually listen to me.”

This easily makes William flustered, leaning over his desk and covering his burning cheek with the palm of his hand as he says, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It _is,_ ” Gabe says. “You’re such a breath of fresh air. You’re different from all the other kids I’ve taught. You hardly act your age, honestly. You’re... mature.”

William laughs. He’s anything but mature. Just last week, he was watching as his friends tried kicking a dead run-over squirrel into the storm drain, the tips of their shoes pushing and prodding at the gut-oozing furry mass. And like the rest of them, instead of respecting this poor roadkill squirrel, William laughed and made jokes as they all chimed, _fucking fatass squirrel!_

Rather than telling the whole squirrel story, William elects to say, “I wouldn’t say I’m mature.” 

“No, really,” Gabe insists. “I know we haven’t talked so much, but you just… you have a different sort of grace, a different air than everyone else.”

William picks up an index card, bending the corner over as he asks, “Really?”

“Really,” Gabe says.

“Is that why you kissed me?” William asks. He flexes the index card corner again, creasing the paper. “Because I’m different?”

“It’s part of it,” Gabe says. “You’re still okay about the kiss, right? I don’t want to cross any boundaries.”

“No, it’s still fine,” William says. _More than fine._

“More than fine?”

William’s face pales. Oh fuck, he said that thought out loud. The index card slips out of his fingers and he rushes to apologize, “Um… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Gabe assures him. “I think that’s cute.”

“You think so?”

“I do. Cute, just like you.”

William’s cheeks burn yet again. “Oh, stop it,” he says playfully with a grin, although he really wants Gabe to keep going.

“Bonito,” Gabe whispers into the phone. “Maduro, increíble, _bellísimo._ ”

Even though William has no clue what any of those words mean, his heart can’t help but flutter in delight with each one. “Gracias,” he mutters bashfully.

“De nada,” Gabe says. “Anyways, how are you? Got any other homework besides studying?”

“Not really,” William says. Maybe he’ll write or something later, maybe he’ll go over the flashcards, but other than that, he has no plans. “I’ll probably be bored most of the night.”

“Oh?” There’s a hint of intrigue to Gabe’s voice. “Me too, probably. I finished most of my grading during lunch after you left. But… if you’re going to be bored, I wouldn’t mind helping out with that.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asks naively.

“I could call you tonight,” Gabe suggests, voice taking on a darker tone as he purrs, “I’ll make _sure_ you’re not bored.”

William breathes out, realizing what Gabe means. His stomach twists itself into anxiety-ridden knots as he chokes out, “Yeah… uh, sure.” He inhales, and manages to sound a little more put-together on the second sentence. That’d be great.”

“Eight P.M?”

“Eight P.M.”

“I’ll call you then.” Sweetly, Gabe says, “No puedo esperar. Adios, William.”

“Adios.”

As soon as Gabe has hung up, William leans back in his chair, pulling his legs to his chest and staring up at the ceiling. He can’t even imagine what’s bound to happen.

And it’s exciting. More than that, it’s _different._

For dinner, William’s mother brings home pizza. Usually, William scarfs it down, but tonight he barely takes a bite. He’s anticipating Gabe’s call too much. He glances at the time on the oven. An hour and three minutes until Gabe will call, an hour and three minutes until William will be alone in his room with only one particular person’s voice speaking sultrily into his ear.

“William, honey, are you okay?” his mother asks. “You haven’t touched your pizza.”

“Sorry.” William’s eyes switch from the time on the oven back to the pizza on his plate. He picks up the slice and takes a bite. Usually the greasiness is as enjoyable as sin, but since tasting chocolate on Gabe’s tongue, nothing could ever measure up as good again. Still, he keeps eating to avoid suspicion.

“You said you had a Spanish test today, right?” his father asks. “How’d you do?”

“A _quiz,”_ William says. “It’s not that big of a deal. And I think I did fine.”

“You’re lying,” his little sister, Courtney, says.

“Don’t remind me I failed French. This time will be different.”

When Courtney glances up from her pizza, William can tell she sees right through him. Unnerving. William avoids eye contact by tearing off another bite of pizza.

“Who’s your Spanish teacher?” his mother asks.

“Mr. Saporta,” William says. The way his last name rolls off his tongue is pleasant. William already wonders how it would sound as his own last name. _William Saporta._ “But we all just call him Gabe.”

“Gabe?” His mother frowns. “I’ve never had a teacher who let us call them by their first name. Isn’t it sorta weird?”

“Not really,” William says. “He just got out of college. He’s pretty young, probably trying to be cool with the kids and stuff.”

“It’s not his job to be ‘cool with the kids,’” his mother mutters disapprovingly. “His job is to be a _teacher.”_

“And he’s a really good teacher,” William promises. “You’ll see during the open house, when you meet him.”

Courtney reaches across the table for the pizza box, prying it open and taking another slice. “Is he the hot one everyone’s talking about?”

William glares at her. “He’s not _that_ hot,” he says defensively. “He’s normal-looking. How would I know, anyway? He’s my teacher, I wouldn’t see him that way.”

Courtney smiles mischievously. “I was just _asking,_ don’t get so worked up about it.” And she takes a very self-assured bite of pizza.

His parents raise their eyebrows at him, but don’t say anything and move onto complaining about the drudgery of work.

Eight o’clock can’t come soon enough. William’s laying on top of his bed, lights switched off, curtains drawn, the room flooded with pitch-black. He’d lied to his parents he was going to bed early so they wouldn’t try walking in. Somehow, they believed he was that exhausted after studying Spanish flashcards for fifteen minutes.

He has his cellphone clutched in his hand, counting down the minutes. 7:58. 7:59. 8:00.

About ten seconds after the clock has struck eight, true to Gabe’s promise, William’s cellphone starts ringing. William picks up immediately.

“ _William._ How are you? Are you alone?”

“I’m good,” William says. He fiddles with the zipper of his jeans, flicking it between the tips of his fingers. “And yeah, I’m alone.”

“Good,” Gabe says. “And did you study more?”

“I did.”

“You’re so good,” Gabe tells him. “You know, you should come to my apartment sometime, and I could help you study.”

William’s heart races. “Really?”

“And depending on how well you do, there might be something in it for you. Do you want to hear how I’d reward you?”

William nods eagerly. Hoping he doesn’t sound too desperate, he quickly says, “Yeah, tell me.” In anticipation, William finally lets his fingers pull down the zipper of his jeans, tug out the button.

“I’d kiss you again,” Gabe says. That alone sends a spark down William’s spine, but he’s not done yet. “I’d dip my hands underneath your shirt, feel over that lithe body of yours as I kiss your neck. I’d probably be able to count all your ribs just by touching your chest.”

William giggles. “I’m not _that_ skinny.”

“You’re a long-legged wet dream,” Gabe says. “And I’d run my hands up your thin thighs, and tell you how good you look with your lips all swollen and red from kissing you so hard.”

William twists the waistband of his briefs between his fingers. “And then what would you do?”

“What I _wouldn’t_ do,” Gabe wonders out loud. “I don’t think I’d be able to wait to get to the bedroom. I’d probably have to fuck you on the couch, right there.”

Just from hearing the way fuck crudely leaves Gabe’s lips, a shiver rolls down William’s spine. "On the couch?”

“On the couch,” Gabe repeats. “But only if you’re okay with that.”

“Sure, I’m fine with it.”

“Although, there _are_ so many other places we could end up,” Gabe says suggestively, and William guesses he’s probably taking a look around his apartment right now. “The kitchen counter. The bathtub. Wherever you want, _mi amor.”_

William’s breath hitches, and he wraps his hand around himself. “What’d you say?”

“Mi amor,” Gabe repeats. “My _love._ Mi vida, my _life,_ mi todo, my _everything.”_

William starts to slowly pump his hand up and down, a shaky breath of air shuddering into the cellphone’s speaker. “Fuck, it’s only been a week and you’re already saying stuff like that.”

“¿Te gusta?”

“ _Love_ it.” William’s cut off by a moan, moving his hand quicker and heat coiling tighter. His frenzied voice begs, “Gabe, I need you, I need you so bad.”

“And you’ll have me,” Gabe reassures. “Ten paciencia, mi amor.”

“ _Need_ you,” William practically exhales. His hand keeps going on pure instinct, and when he closes his eyes, he imagines Gabe doing this to him, his slender fingers grasping on his cock. “Please, I need to see you soon.”

“Well, we’ll see each other at school tomorrow,” Gabe says, feigning innocence.

“No, I need more,” William says. “I need you to touch me.”

“I could arrange that,” Gabe tells him. “When are you free?”

“ _Any_ time." He bites down on his bottom lip, inhales sharply through his nose; just the thought of being alone with Gabe drives him mad.

“I’m free tomorrow night. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want me to fuck you tomorrow night, so hard your tight little ass still aches by the time you’re in my class the day after?”

“Yes,” William moans, kicking his heels against the bedsheets. “Fuck, yes, yes, yes. Tomorrow night.”

“Great.” And then Gabe’s voice becomes heavier, sultrier as he asks, “Are you close, _mi amor?”_

He’s a tightly-wound string, being pulled at from both sides so hard he’s fraying, he’ll snap at any moment. “Yes,” is an understatement.

“Good,” Gabe hisses under his breath. “So fucking good, aren’t you? _Mine.”_

“Yours,” William says, teetering on the brink, toes curled tightly and fingernails scraping against the side of his cellphone. _“Yours.”_

 _“My slut,”_ Gabe says, “and no one else’s.”

That word pushes William over the edge, quietly crying out into the phone speaker, “Gabe, Gabe, _Gabe,”_ as his cum spills over his hand, runs hot and sticky between the crevices of his fingers. Even when his climax is over, there’s something new and thick that still fills his veins, something impossible to come down from.

“So,” William says as soon as he’s caught his breath. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Gabe says. As if he’s premeditated on this situation before, he instructs, “I’ll drive you there after school. I’ll park further down the street, we’ll leave the building late so nobody sees us.”

 _Perfect,_ William can’t help but think. Everything about this is perfect and beautiful and dangerous and different.

William knows there’s something different about himself this morning, an extra bounce in his step as the rest of his friends crowd around Chizzy’s locker, eyes as empty and dull as zombies, clutching coffee cups in their hands. William had gone to bed early, wanting today to come as soon as possible, while the rest of them had probably been up late playing video games or cramming last-minute for a test.

He can see why Gabe thinks he’s mature. William knows his limits, he knows how to take care of himself.

 _“Someone_ looks awfully happy today,” Mike finally comments. William’s been beaming for almost a full minute, waiting for them to notice even though there’s nothing he can tell them.

“Do I?”

“Christ, Bill.” Sisky laughs. “You might as well be high. What do you want to tell us?”

“Nothing,” William says, but his smile only stretches wider. It feels so good to keep a secret, to have a secret like _Gabe_ nobody else could ever conceive of.

William’s homeroom teacher, Mr. Wentz, hands him a pass on bright yellow paper.

“This is for you,” he says. “Mr. Saporta wants to see you during sixth period.”

Glee shoots through William that he has to quickly suppress. He nods and says, “Thank you.” Not only does he get to skip his monotonous Government class, he can also see Gabe before tonight. It’s perfect, so perfect. What will he do, talk to William like he’s any other student about the vocabulary, or tease him about tonight so relentlessly would leave him shaking with exhilaration?

Sixth period does not come fast enough, but when it does, William’s relieved to brandish the yellow pass to his Government teacher and skip off to Gabe’s classroom.

When he gets to Gabe’s classroom door, he twists the doorknob and peers inside. Gabe’s sitting at his desk, not noticing the cracked-open door. Instead, his head is bowed studiously over the work he’s grading.

“Gabe?” William murmurs, and Gabe’s head shoots up, a pleased smile crossing his lips as he drops his pen out of his hand.

“I’m so glad you came. Come, sit here.”

William pulls up a chair next to the desk and Gabe turns in his swiveling chair toward him. “I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. I didn’t pull you out of anything important, right?”

“No,” William lies, although he’s pretty sure his Government teacher mentioned something about making up a test. Oh well.

“Good.” Gabe crosses his fingers, leaning his elbows on his knees as he leans in and a seriousness encapsulates his expression. “You’re a smart boy, William, and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of what the consequences would be for both of us if we were caught.”

“Of course,” William says. “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll be really careful about it.”

“And you can promise me that you’ll never tell _anyone?_ Not even your friends?”

“No,” William shakes his head. “I would never. I know that they wouldn’t understand us.”

Gabe nods. “I’m glad you understand. So then, let’s talk about tonight. I want you to know that I’m not going to do anything without your consent, okay? And if you ever want me to stop, you tell me, and I will. I’m not like other guys, I’d never do something like that to you.”

“Of course,” William agrees with a light smile, and then his stomach growls. Gabe raises his eyebrows, and William quickly says, “Oh, I’m fine.”

“Are you hungry?” Gabe asks. “Did you eat lunch?”

“Yeah, I had lunch,” He’s not lying, if one apple and a singular tater tot he stole from Chizzy counts as lunch. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Alright.” Gabe lets go of the subject tentatively, signs of concern erasing away back into his serious expression. “Anyways, you understand I would never do anything to you that you wouldn’t want me to, right? We’ll go at your own pace. We don’t even have to do anything tonight, we can just study and that can be it.”

“I do want more, though,” William says. “Not just studying.”

Gabe’s hand moves to cup his cheek, and the skin underneath blooms red. “What do you want, mi amor?”

William opens his mouth, but then the classroom door jostles. Gabe’s hand shoots away, soon enough that luckily the teacher enters, Mr. Suarez, doesn’t seem to have noticed anything peculiar. “Hey, Gabe, can I talk to you for a minute? It’s about Spanish club.”

“Sure!” Gabe gives Mr. Suarez a bright smile, although William can tell what’s hiding underneath it: the fear of being caught. “William, I’ll just be a minute.”

“Okay,” William chokes out. He’s a little less capable of hiding his own shock, the dryness in the back of his throat he can’t swallow down as he watches Gabe leave his chair and go over to talk to Mr. Suarez about the first Spanish club meeting planned for the year.

From what William overhears, at least from the sentences that aren’t in rapidfire and completely undecipherable Spanish, they’re complaining about how Ms. Asher wants to supervise the club this year even though she still forgets preterite conjugations. Then Mr. Suarez says something about _la fotocopiadora_ and something about _olvidando los papeles,_ and Gabe offers to retrieve them and walks out for a brief moment, leaving just William and Mr. Suarez in the classroom.

“What’s your name?” Mr. Suarez asks. William’s head perks up, realizing he’s talking to _him._ “I don’t think I’ve had you in one of my classes.”

“William.”

“Are you one of Mr. Saporta’s Spanish 1 students?” William nods. “Well, be careful,” Mr. Suarez advises, sticking one of his hands in his pocket. And then that’s where his sentence ends.

The classroom clock on the wall ticks a few times before William asks, “Why should I be careful?”

Mr. Suarez shrugs. “Just be careful. Mr. Saporta is… interesting.”

“Interesting how?”

Just as Mr. Suarez is thinking over the right response, the door swings open and Gabe hands a stack of papers to Mr. Suarez, who promptly thanks him. They exchange a few more words before Mr. Suarez exits.

Gabe shuts the door closed behind him, finally letting out a sigh of relief. “That was a close one, wasn’t it?”

William nods and softly says, “Yeah.”

“I better lock the door, just in case. I should have done that before.” Gabe grabs his keys out of his pocket, jingling as he inserts them into the door and turns. There’s a _click,_ and then Gabe lowers the blinds over the windows, and now nobody could possibly catch them.

“Now, back to business,” Gabe says, but he doesn’t sit back down on his chair. Instead, he stands behind William’s chair, bringing his hand through his long brown locks and studying how they fall and feather across his palms. “You have such lovely hair.”

“Thank you,” William says. He quite enjoys the light tug of Gabe at his hair; in a way, it’s soothing, like he’s at a hair salon. “You have nice hair, too.”

Gabe scoffs. “Yeah, right. I have unruly Jewish hair. Not like your hair. It’s one of the first things that first caught my eye, actually.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Gabe takes a fistful of hair, gently flipping it over William’s scalp and exposing his neck to the cool air. Lips brush against William’s earlobe, and he suppresses a shudder. “So, what were you saying before we were rudely interrupted, mi amor? What do you want tonight?”

“I want…” William trails off when Gabe’s blunt teeth drag across his skin. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Have you ever done it before?” he asks, breath warm on his collarbone.

William closes his eyes tight, preparing himself for Gabe’s disappointment. Even with everything Gabe says about him, in truth William knows he’ll only be anything but sexy, a clumsy and inexperienced virgin. “No.”

“Good.” The answer shocks William, especially the possessiveness that clings to Gabe’s tone. “Then you’ll be all mine.” Gabe wraps his arms around William’s waist. “So pretty and unspoiled and skinny and _mine._ It’ll be good for you to have your first time with someone experienced. I’ll make you feel so good, I swear.”

William’s heart rate picks up. “Really?”

Gabe nods into his shoulder. “Mi _amor,_ mi _vida,_ this will be the best night of your life.”

Easily, William believes him. They spend the rest of the class period underneath Gabe’s desk, burning hands on the insides of William’s clothed thighs as Gabe kisses every inch of his neck and lips, telling William how much he _wishes_ he could fuck him right there, how thin and beautiful he is, how William is nothing like he’s ever known, and a million other things that Gabe murmurs in Spanish, a million things William can’t understand but could never forget.

After school ends, William catches Mr. Suarez’s eyes as he walks past him through the foreign language hallway. His advice to be careful has been stuck in William’s head all day, but he can’t yet figure out _why_ he would need to be careful. Oh well.

William disappears into Gabe’s classroom, and they wait a full twenty minutes, long enough that most people have left the building but before any club meetings would disperse more students into the hallway. They’re completely quiet as they hurry through the hallway, out the door and through the fall leaves covering the parking lot in an autumn mist. Gabe’s car is parked down the street, just as he said it would be. He starts the car quickly, only letting go of the breath he’s been holding once they’re outside of the district’s boundaries.

“You okay?” William asks.

Gabe puts a smile on his face. “Amazing, especially now that you’re here. What do you want to do for dinner? Pizza?”

“I had pizza last night.”

“Hm, okay. I could get us Chinese takeout, then?”

“Sure.”

They pull over at the side of the road and Gabe digs a folded restaurant brochure out of the glove box before handing it to William. William decides on vegetable fried rice, Gabe calls in the order, and they pick it up twenty minutes later after occupying themselves with making fun of whatever’s playing on the radio, Gabe jokingly remarking, “Even _my_ own band was better than that,” and even though it’s not that funny, William still laughs anyway.

Gabe lives in an apartment that’s thankfully a few miles far from the school, and no burden weighs as heavy as it should on their shoulders as they get out of the car and walk through the apartment complex. Nobody here knows them, nobody can judge them. When William catches their reflection in a pane of glass, he thinks they look so _right_ next to each other, a real couple instead of a teacher and student.

“And here’s my place,” Gabe says, switching on the lights to reveal his small apartment. The couch and TV are only a few feet apart, the kitchen across the room barely having any space. But other than the size, it’s nice. Gabe actually seems to keep it clean, and the colors of the furniture and decorations are much cooler than the pale green and bright reds and yellows of his classroom.

Gabe sets the bag of Chinese food on the coffee table and plunks himself down on the couch with a sigh. William sits, too, but on the edge of the couch, wary of the unfamiliar surroundings like a new dog would before it’s been scoped out.

As William takes his first meager bite of fried rice, chewing slowly, Gabe narrows his eyes at him and says, “So, I should help you study, right?”

William licks a grain of rice off the corner of his mouth. “Sure.”

“And if you do well, I’ll reward you.” Gabe’s fingers trace the inside of William’s narrow thigh, and suddenly he’s not hungry anymore. “That sound good, mi amor?”

William nods, sticking his chopsticks in the takeout box of rice, and Gabe reaches behind him to the side table to pick up a vocabulary sheet for Unit 2.

“I thought it’d be good if we got ahead,” Gabe says, handing the sheet to William. The front and back are plastered with a list of verbs, colors, and numbers in Spanish. “Are you up for that?”

William nods. “Sure.”

Gabe gives him a minute to really read the words on the paper before he takes it back and starts asking, “What does _nadar_ mean?”

William thinks for a moment. “To swim?”

Gabe beams. “Good. What does _caminar_ mean?”

“Um… uh… to drive?”

“No, to walk.”

They go on like this for about half an hour, before Gabe’s exhausted the list and William’s exhausted his mental capacity for new languages. It’s a much more complex emotion than merely relief that William feels when Gabe puts aside the vocabulary sheet, sidles closer to William on the couch, and, with a heavy hand on his knee, says, “You did so well, mi amor. You’re so _smart._ And you know what that deserves?”

“I can take a few guesses.”

Gabe’s mouth curves into a smirk before it crashes against William’s, hot and heavy and his tongue sweeping across his bottom lip with ease. He snatches William by his shoulders, pulling him closer before pushing, forcing him down onto the couch so Gabe can crawl over him and straddle him, knees on either side of his hips.

“I just can’t fucking _control_ myself around you,” Gabe says, and he presses his lips to William’s for a brief moment before stops again, leaning away to admire William’s face. The lively blush of his pale cheeks, his tousled brown hair, his innocent and young eyes staring up at him with thirst. “So fucking gorgeous, mi amor,” he mutters under his breath, _“jodido hermoso.”_

William’s heart pounds in his ears, the tips of his fingers burning just as he brushes against the fabric of Gabe’s shirt above him. Nobody’s ever told him such words. Nobody’s ever made him feel so special.

Gabe kisses him again, one hand coming down to push apart William’s legs so he can slide his knee between them to press it against his crotch. William moans into Gabe’s mouth, letting him drink in all of his pleasure.

The hem of William’s shirt is lifted. Gabe’s pushing it up, above his stomach, above his chest and up to his collarbone before it’s tugged over William’s head and tossed across the room. Gabe bows his head to lick a stripe up the indents of where William’s ribs rise and sink like a pattern of pallid waves.

“You could be a fuckin’ model,” Gabe tells him, raking his fingers across his ribs, the wrist of his hand bobbing up and down between each. William’s suddenly very glad he didn’t eat lunch. “Muy delgada. Me _encantan_ tus costillas, mi amor esquelético.”

“You’re so poetic,” William laughs. He has no idea what Gabe’s saying, but it sounds poetic on its own. “They’re just ribs.”

 _“Your_ ribs,” Gabe corrects. His eyes shine as he says, “Everything about you is _amazing.”_ His knee presses harder, causing a whine to be emitted from the back of William’s throat. At that, Gabe continues, “It’s so hard to believe, here you are, so naive and a fucking _virgin,_ and you’re all mine to _ruin.”_

He reaches for William’s zipper, voice turning to sugar as he asks, “This okay?” William nods, and Gabe yanks it down and undoes the button of his jeans before pulling them down William’s waist. On the way down, his finger catches the waistband of William’s briefs too, letting them slip and show off a sliver of hip bone. Once the jeans are completely off, Gabe pulls down the waistband of his briefs more, just enough to kiss where William’s bones jut out from his hips.

“Still okay?” Gabe asks, pulling down the waistband more. William gives an affirmative noise from the back of his throat, and then his briefs are off in one swift movement, revealing his hard cock.

Gabe’s eyes are filled with something akin to awe as his eyes prowl across William’s bare legs, his erection, his flat stomach and protruding ribs, his thin neck, his sharp jawline and long hair, finally landing at his face. William’s lips are parted, colored a dusty rose from all the gnawing Gabe’s done to them. His eyes are half-lidded, gazing up at Gabe, at least until Gabe leans down to run his tongue over the underside of William’s cock. William’s eyes shoot open before tightening shut, arching his back and grabbing Gabe’s shirt as he moans out, “Gabe, _Gabe.”_

“What do you want, mi amor?”

“Fuck me, please, Gabe, _fuck me.”_

Gabe raises himself back up, his stare turning cold as he orders, “Say it in Spanish.”

“How?” William asks without missing a beat. Gabe smiles at how his obedience comes so easy.

In his ear, Gabe whispers, “Cógeme.”

“Cógeme,” William repeats weakly, testing out the phrase on his tongue.

“Louder,” Gabe says. “I want to _really_ hear you say it.”

“Cógeme,” William says again, stronger. With more confidence, he looks Gabe straight in the eyes, tugs at his shirt. “¡Cógeme!”

“Good,” Gabe purrs. He pulls off his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest and arms, much more substantial and stronger than William’s stick figure. “So fucking good for me, mi amor.” He guides one of William’s hands to his jeans, and William unzips them, pushes them off and down Gabe’s thighs. The sight of his bulge sends a chill down William’s spine. He knows there isn’t any turning back now. “I’m gonna get the lube, okay?”

William nods, and the shadow of Gabe’s body leaves him as he races to the bedroom. It allows William a moment to breathe, a moment to think. William knows he’s making the right decision. This is what he wants. This is what Gabe wants. It’s simple, really.

Gabe’s back as quickly as he’d disappeared, slathering glistening lube on his fingers. Then he’s pressing the tips of his fingers against William, cold and slimy. “This still okay?” William says yes, and Gabe’s fingers delve into him, curling and prodding and searching and-- _fuck,_ he finds it, and William practically _writhes_ from how divine Gabe’s fingers feel against his prostate.

 _“Fuck,”_ William whines. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s good. Cógeme, please, Gabe, _please.”_

Gabe smiles, pressing a kiss to his forehead and letting his fingers brush against the spot again as he says, “Mi amor, mi _vida,”_ and William nearly could cry of happiness. This is everything he’s ever imagined and more. Gabe knows what he’s doing, and William couldn’t imagine it with anyone else. Nobody could make him feel like this, the way Gabe does.

Gabe slides his fingers out, leaving William feeling achingly empty inside for only a mere moment before Gabe adjusts his position, pushes William's legs further out and apart so he can line up his cock with William’s entrance. “I don’t have to ask whether this is okay, do I?”

“No,” William says. “Fuck me. Fuck me, please.”

“En español,” Gabe sternly reminds him.

William fumbles for the word before it comes rolling off his tongue again. “¡Cógeme!”

Instead of saying anything, Gabe thrusts himself into William. It takes him aback, William’s nails digging into the couch cushion so hard he can feel the patterns of the thread against his fingertips. Even with the lube, the suddenness of it stings and the fullness is odd for a few moments, a strange feeling William tries to capture in his memory as he slowly gets used to it.

“How does that feel?” Gabe asks, brushing a strand of hair out of William’s eye.

“Weird,” William says, and then he gulps and purses his lips. So weird, but there’s nobody else he’d rather trust with this, even if they’ve only known each other for just over a week.

Gabe’s hips pull back and snap forward again, back into William, who grits his teeth while Gabe moans, once, even twice. “Jodido _virgen,”_ Gabe spits. “Te destruiré, eres mi _puto._ Mío y de nadie más, mi amor.”

“Wh… what does that mean?”

“Not telling you.” Gabe narrows his eyes at William. “You have to _earn_ it.”

And he thrusts himself into William again, angling himself differently this time. Everything’s forgotten when electricity shoots through William’s veins like a clap of thunder, and William throws his head back against the couch, revelling in the pleasure that comes from Gabe finding that spot. Gabe seems to notice and hits it again, and again, and again, his rhythm getting faster and faster and to William, it’s just so beautifully _unbearable._ Whatever Gabe had just said doesn’t matter, it’s just this and nothing else.

“Fuck, Gabe,” William moans. “I’m gonna--I’m--”

And William comes, well before Gabe will, but Gabe doesn’t seem to mind, cherishing the way his lover’s face gasps and twists in pleasure. “You’re such a fucking virgin,” Gabe moans. “Jodido virgen, _mierda.”_

Even when William’s come down from his climax, Gabe keeps fucking him, keeps going with that endless energy he has. It’s almost incredible to William, and he would enjoy it if not for the fact Gabe’s stamina has started to feel slightly bothersome down there and his stomach is sticky.

Finally, Gabe comes, nails digging into William’s shoulders so hard that a singular, unseen bead of blood surfaces. _“William, William, William.”_

His movements slow, coming to a stop. William only realizes how much he aches when Gabe pulls himself out.

It’s over.

Gabe rolls off him, saying he’ll get towels to clean up, and William’s left with how suddenly exposed and cold he feels on the couch. Goosebumps form rows and columns on his skin.

He just lost his virginity to his teacher. His _teacher._

After the towels have been tossed into the laundry hamper, William is shrugging his shirt back on over his shoulders when Gabe asks, “Do you want to stay the night?”

“I wish,” William says. “I don’t think my parents would appreciate it much if I told them I was having a last-minute sleepover. We shouldn’t be too suspicious, right?”

Gabe nods understandingly. “When do you want me to bring you home, then?”

William takes out his cellphone to check the time. Not only is it almost six, but there’s a few missed texts from his friends, asking William whether he wants to hang out at Butcher’s house, probably to fuck around outside and kick more dead squirrels into storm drains. For now, he decides to ignore the texts. He’ll lie later that he was taking a nap. “Is eight okay?”

“Eight’s good. Do you have a lot of homework?”

William shakes his head. Actually, he has two Government worksheets, a page of Precalculus, an English essay that needs to be outlined. However, William’s sure he’ll still have plenty of time to do it once he gets home. He could probably finish it all and still have time to spare before midnight.

“Cool.” Gabe picks up the mostly-full takeout container of fried rice from the coffee table. “You gonna finish this?”

Although by now the rice is probably cold, the scent still wafts its way through William’s nose. His stomach is so empty, so tempted. “No.”

Rather than look concerned, Gabe nods and gathers up the rest of the takeout and brings it into the kitchen. As he’s busy sorting it all into the fridge, William wanders to a bookshelf next to the TV, running his fingers across the worn spines of plenty of books, a mix of English and Spanish titles.

“I could read them to you, if you want,” Gabe says. William turns his head. He hadn’t noticed Gabe behind him, that’d he’d already finished putting away the food. William wonders how long he’s been watching him, how long his eyes were running across his narrow waist and the few nail marks poking out from under his shirt collar.

“One of the Spanish ones?”

Gabe nods and points to the shelf. “Pick one out.”

William closes his eyes and pulls out a book. When he opens his eyes, he sees the book he’s chosen is _Nada_ by Carmen Laforet. He hands it to Gabe, who nods approvingly and says, “That’s a good one.”

They end up curled under the warm, thick black sheets of Gabe’s bed, William snuggled underneath Gabe’s arm as he listens to him begin to read, “Por dificultades en el último momento para adquirir billetes, llegué a Barcelona a medianoche…” After each paragraph, he stops and translates it all for William, whispers the words sweetly and poetically like it’s a song. William swears Gabe’s voice encapsulates exactly how love sounds, even if the words he’s reading are about something completely different.

William could fall asleep like this, and he almost does, words like a hum in his ear until they’re a fourth through the book and Gabe sits up, hissing, “Shit, it’s almost nine.”

William shoots up. “Wait, really?”

Gabe grabs a jacket off a chair piled with clothes, pulling it on in a hurry. “Come on, we gotta get going. Mierda, I can’t believe we lost track of time. Will your parents be mad at you?”

“A little,” William says. “But I’ll text them and tell them I’m coming home now, that I was studying late with a friend. I’m almost an adult anyway, they can’t control me.”

Gabe laughs. _“Almost._ Don’t grow up, being an adult sucks.”

William cracks a nervous smile, suddenly uneasy being reminded how Gabe’s years older. “I’ll try not to.”

As they’re in the car and William’s buckling his seatbelt, Gabe asks, “When’s your birthday, anyway?”

“February 11th,” William says. “I should have been born on Valentine’s Day, but I guess fetus me was an idiot.”

“That would have been so _romantic,”_ Gabe coos, shifting the car into drive and turning out of the parking space. “Imagine having your birthday on the same day as Valentine’s Day. I’d treat you _so good._ I mean, I still will, of course. The eleventh is still pretty close.”

William’s face burns, his limbs become hot. “Really?”

“You’re seventeen, right?” William says yes, and Gabe moans, _“Fuck,_ when you’re eighteen I’m gonna make you feel so good. I already can’t wait for February. It’s going to be so good. Imagine all the words I’ll have taught you by then.”

“I can’t wait,” William says with a grin. “So then how old are you?”

“I turn twenty-five in a month.”

“Twenty-five,” William repeats quietly to himself. Nearly eight years older than him, eight more years of experience, and yet Gabe picked _him_ out of everyone he could have seduced.

“That’s not weird, right? I should have probably told you before.”

“No, not at all,” William says. “I like it. I couldn’t imagine dating someone my own age.”

He catches the glint of Gabe’s grin in a passing streetlight. “Good. You don’t deserve someone your own age. You’re different.”

“Thanks,” William says meekly, and they keep driving in silence before William asks, “You want me to tell you my address?”

“Yeah. Actually, hang on, let me pull over so I can write it down. Just in case, you know.”

Gabe stops the car at the side of a road, a neighborhood William is vaguely familiar with, but with the blackness blanketing the street it’s hard to remember why. William tells him his address, and Gabe plugs it into the GPS. But his hands don’t move back to the steering wheel or the gearshift. Instead, he sits there, mesmerized by William’s eyes as he moves to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Tan bonito en la oscuridad,” Gabe tells him, warm thumb tracing down William’s jaw and studying how the shadows frame the shape of his face. “I know we’re late, but could we kiss? Just for a few minutes. I don’t want to kiss you when we’re right near your house.”

“Sure,” William says. “Just a few minutes.”

Gabe leans forward, capturing William’s mouth, biting at his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling at it before letting it snap back. His tongue is everywhere in William’s mouth, exploring every crevice like darkness does a cave. One hand is at the back of William’s head, tugging lightly through his hair still disheveled from earlier.

And then the hand is gone, and then the hand has sunken to William’s front, pressing against his crotch. William emits a moan before breaking the kiss. “Not right now, I gotta get home.”

“Oh, come on,” Gabe persuades. “We can still be quick. You think you can crawl into the backseat with that skinny little body of yours, mi amor?”

“Gabe--” William starts to protest, but he’s cut off by an enveloping kiss.

“I asked,” Gabe croons sweetly. “Can you crawl into the backseat, or not?”

“Another time,” William says firmly. Gabe frowns, but moves away anyway, shoulders sagging with disappointment. Immediately, William’s hit with guilt. “I’m sorry, I would, it’s just that I have homework and it’s late--”

“I get it, don’t worry.” Gabe sighs, starting the car back up. “I understand.”

William gulps. He’s filled with regret. “If you really want to, maybe I can spare a few minutes.”

“No, you’re right. Wouldn’t want you to stay up late on homework.”

“You’re sure?”

Gabe shifts the car into drive, voice laced with chagrin. “I’m sure.”

William’s parents are both, understandably, upset that he’s home so late on a school night. “I just got caught up in studying with Sisky,” he says. And his parents seem to believe it, give him a pat on the shoulder for actually trying to improve his grades this year before he’s due to apply to college, and leave it alone.

Later, when William’s finally finished all his homework at 1 A.M, he texts Gabe and apologizes for earlier, says he still had a lot of fun that night with him. Gabe doesn’t reply until morning. **_It’s okay,_** his message reads, **_i still loved last night, we can forget about what happened in the car. Can’t wait to see you in class, don’t stare too much ;) <3 _**

“Dude, where _were_ you last night?” Mike asks as soon as William walks through the door to their homeroom. “You didn’t reply to any of our texts.”

“I was…” William thinks quick, and avoids his prying eyes by looking down at the floor while setting down his backpack. “Studying.”

“But _where_ were you?” Mike presses. “I checked on Snapchat, you were really far away on the map.” Then, Mike gasps and with a sly smirk, teases, “Does our William have a _girlfriend?”_

William rolls his eyes and deadpans, “No, I don’t.”

“Boyfriend?”

William hesitates, his reply more unsure. “No.”

Mike gasps dramatically. _“Bilvy_ has a _boyfriend?”_

“Screw off, I do not.”

“You’re _lyyyying.”_

William decides the best course of action is just to ignore Mike, but then when it becomes clear he’s not giving in, Mike whips out his cellphone and says he’s texting the groupchat.

“No you won’t,” William says, even though he knows Mike will, because this is Mike Carden.

Mike raises his eyebrows. “I _will.”_ And he doesn’t even give William a chance to protest, because his fingers start tapping at the phone screen, nimbly typing out the text within seconds and hitting send. William’s phone vibrates. To their groupchat, Mike has sent, in all caps and with multiple shocked emojis, **_WILLIAM BECKETT HAS A BF!!!!_**

“Mike, seriously?” William mutters under his breath, typing back quickly, **_not true mike’s just messing around_**

“They’ll believe me,” Mike says, clicking his phone off and setting it down on his desk. “We were all looking at the Snapchat map together at your stupid emo bitmoji. Anyways, you’re coming with us for lunch, right?” As he changes the topic, his phone starts vibrating with all the replies to the groupchat. The fact that he doesn’t even so much as look bothers William, that Mike’s _that_ self-assured.

“What about lunch? I’m always with you guys for lunch.”

“No, the leaving-campus-for-lunch part of our senior privileges starts today. Chiz is gonna drive us to McDonald’s. You’re coming, right?”

William nods. “Sure.” And his phone vibrates again, and he looks down to see one of the many texts fawning over this supposed lie Mike spouts. “But we’re not gonna talk about how I have a boyfriend, because I _don’t.”_

Mike shrugs and says, “Whatever you say, man,” although he still cracks a disbelieving smile.

Gabe’s standing at the door to his classroom as usual to greet all of the sleep-deprived freshmen dragging themselves into his room. When William passes by, Gabe grabs him by the shoulder to stop him and whispers in his ear, “Meet me in my room during lunch.”

“During lunch?” William asks. Gabe immediately seems annoyed by the question, eyes darting around to see if anyone will notice their conversation. “But I already told my friends I’d go to McDonald’s with them. Senior privileges and stuff.”

Gabe hardly seems amused, glaring right at William. “No,” he says. “You can always go with them another time, right?” Then he leans closer to William’s ear, whispering, “Don’t you want to feel me again, mi amor?”

William’s eyes widen. He should be telling Gabe not here, especially _not here,_ where anyone like Mr. Suarez could walk in on them, but instead he blushes and hisses under his breath, “You better make it worth it,” and rushes to his seat before he can bear witness to the victorious smirk on Gabe’s face.

As William is taking his notebook out of his backpack in a fumbled sort of hurry, Ryan turns to him and asks, “Are you okay?”

William doesn’t need to be told his face is as bright red as a tomato. _“Yes,”_ he snaps. “I’m absolutely _fine.”_

Ryan mumbles, “Geez, okay,” and turns back to his cellphone.

During second period English, Chizzy doesn’t seem pleased to be informed William doesn’t want to go to McDonald’s with, or as Chizzy calls it in his Australian accent, “Macca’s.” Everyone says it sounds ridiculous, but he refuses to let up even if he’s living in Chicago now.

“But you _have_ to come with us to Macca’s,” he whispers across their seminar table, while Mr. Wentz is busied at the board, writing down something about a Hemingway poem nobody could care less about. “It’s the first day we can go!”

“I’ll go with you guys next time,” William promises, “I need to see a teacher during lunch.”

“Is it your Spanish teacher again?” William nods lightly, and Chizzy groans. “Seriously? I know you don’t want to fail, but didn’t you already meet with him a few days ago?”

“I just need to meet with him again.”

“For what?”

The events of last night flood William’s memory, and he quickly answers, “He wants me to get ahead with the Unit 2 vocabulary.”

“Really?” Chizzy narrows his eyes at William. _“That’s_ what you’re skipping Macca’s for? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get with him.”

“Shut up!” William fires back, just loud enough Mr. Wentz turns around and crosses his arms, staring right at their table.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Wentz asks sternly. William and Chizzy are quick to nod, suddenly quiet. “Please just pay attention, guys, whatever you’re talking about can wait until after class.”

Gabe seems pretty annoyed when William takes a peek into his room, and that’s because Sisky is standing at his desk, claiming he doesn’t understand how to conjugate negative commands.

“Adam,” Gabe says. “We’ll go over negative commands in October.”

“But I _gotta_ know.”

“Sisky,” William says, and his friend spins around. “Aren’t you getting _‘Macca’s?’_ ”

“Oh, yeah.” Sisky grins. “I just had a few Spanish questions for Mr. Saporta.”

“So you two are friends?” Gabe inquires, leaning back in his chair and crossing his fingers.

“Um… yeah,” William says. “Sisky, you should really get going. You know Mike will make Chiz leave without you if you don’t.”

Sisky nods mournfully. “You’re right. I guess I’ll have to save the negative commands for another day. See ‘ya guys later!”

Sisky jogs out of the classroom with a lighthearted wave. It would almost seem completely innocent, but William _knows_ Sisky doesn’t give half a shit about Spanish, especially not enough to put off lunch to ask about whatever a negative command is. Something’s going on, but William refuses to give into the suspicion, keeping himself neutral as Gabe locks the classroom door once Sisky is safely out of sight.

“You haven’t told him anything, right?” Gabe asks. William shakes his head, and Gabe takes William by the shoulder, ushering him away to his desk toward the back of the classroom. “Good. I didn’t think so, I was just checking. Can’t be too careful these days.”

“I understand,” William says, electing not to tell Gabe how suspicious Sisky was. Instead, he plasters a flirtatious smirk on his lips, wraps his arms around Gabe’s neck. “So, why’d you want me to come?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about last night.” Gabe leans into the crook of William’s neck, eyelashes brushing light on his skin. His hands find William’s waist, pushing him toward the desk. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop thinking about it. I took your fucking _virginity._ ”

“Mhm,” William hums, letting himself sit on the ungraded papers as he’s pushed further to the desk, Gabe towering over. “Did you really like it that much?”

“So much,” Gabe says. “In fact, it was magical.”

“Magical?”

 _“Magical,”_ he confirms, pushing aside the collar of William’s t-shirt to brush his lips against the edge of his collarbone. “You _writhed,_ all because of me. You were so innocent and doe-eyed and eager, and fuck, I just wanted your first time to be _special,_ not awkward like it would be if you did it with someone your age.”

William smiles. “You’re so fucking sweet.”

“What do you want me to do to you?” In an instant, Gabe’s voice has turned heavy, filled with yearning. His hands lower from William’s hips, pushing apart his knees so Gabe can stand between his legs, press himself closer. “Imagine if I fucked you right here on the desk.” William’s heart picks up, forcing him to inhale sharply to compensate for the lost oxygen. Gabe notices and the corner of his mouth curves up. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to fuck you, right here, right now, just like you _deserve_ for making me think about you all day?”

“Fuck, yes,” William whines. They’ve hardly done anything yet, but the thought alone shoots blood straight down to his dick. “Please, Gabe, fuck me here, _cógeme.”_

Gabe’s teeth gleam when he grins. They sweep away the papers William sits on, make sure the blinds are shut, and with thirty-five minutes left of the lunch period, they get to work.

As Gabe kisses him, his lips move to his jaw, his hands underneath his shirt to William’s ribs, fingertips trailing across delicately. William feels fragile, a feeling he never realized up until this point.

“You ever had someone suck your dick before?” Gabe asks, breath hot against his neck.

“No.”

“Good.” Gabe’s fingers leave his ribs, lowering his hands to the zipper of William’s jeans. “So fuckin’ innocent, mi amor, _Dios mío._ I should be your first for that too, right?”

“Please,” William says. “I need you.”

William’s jeans and briefs are pushed down to his ankles, leaving him exposed from the waist down. Gabe licks his lips. “Now, mi amor, you need to try to be quiet for me, okay? You wouldn’t want anyone to overhear us, right?”

William nods eagerly. “Yeah, I’ll be quiet. Of course.”

“Good, you’re so good.” And Gabe lowers himself to his knees, takes William into his mouth, and starts to suck. It’s like nothing William’s ever experienced before; his tongue is just there, Gabe knows what he’s doing, hands on William’s thighs and light scraping his nails against them as his head bobs. William bites down on his bottom lip, chokes back all the filthy noises that want to leave his throat. The only sound that escapes him is a low whimper when the pressure is too much, when William knows he’s nearing his climax already.

 _“Gabe,”_ William whimpers. “I’m gonna—”

And William comes, biting down on his bottom lip harder and digging his shoes against the floor to keep himself from emitting a moan. Gabe swallows, but William can see him glaring up at him, and suddenly all the heat leaves the room. William is only cold. He did something wrong.

Gabe slides his mouth off his cock and says, “You should have told me earlier. I didn’t know you’d come _that_ fast.”

“I’m sorry,” William quickly apologizes. “It’s just that… I don’t know, you’re really good and it was my first one and—”

“No, it’s okay.” Gabe’s tone switches in the blink of an eye, from contemptuous to reassuring. “You’re just so fucking innocent, damn it. But it’s okay, we can still fuck.”

William isn’t sure whether he still wants to fuck after all that, but Gabe’s already undoing the clasp of his belt, pushing his pants and underwear down. William asks, “You have lube, right?”

“No, but we’ll make do.”

Alarm fills William’s veins, creeps up his arms and into his stomach. “What do you mean?” His shoulders narrow, his legs move inward protectively a few inches. “Isn’t it gonna hurt if we don’t use lube? Do you at least have a condom?”

“”If it hurts, it’ll hurt because you’re so fucking tight,” Gabe states, so factually that William almost believes it. He raises his fingers to William’s lips. “Suck.”

“B—”

“Look, mi amor, I would have brought lube, but I had no idea this was gonna happen until I saw you in the hallway this morning and remembered just how you looked under me. You need to trust me, okay? I know what I’m doing. Don’t you want to make up for last night, in the car?”

William gulps. “I thought we said we’d forget about it.”

“And we _will.”_ Gabe’s fingers prod at William’s lips. “Come on, mi amor, just do this one thing for me.”

William opens his mouth, sucks on Gabe’s fingers for a few moments until they’re glistening with spit when Gabe pulls them out. Hardly an instant after, Gabe’s clean hand snatches William’s shoulder, slamming him against the desk, and a dull throb travels down William’s spine. Spit-covered fingers pressing in, stretching. William groans, and Gabe’s hand slaps over his mouth to shut him up.

“I thought I’d told you to be _quiet,”_ he hisses. All William can do is look up at him apologetically, trying to suppress a wince at the frigidity of Gabe’s fingers inside him.

Gabe doesn’t take much time stretching him, probably assuming last night made up enough, and slides out his fingers, swiftly replacing them with his cock as he starts to push in. William’s back arches, his eyes tighten shut, and Gabe’s hand muffles the desperate cry of pain that leaves his mouth.

“We can still stop if you want to,” Gabe says, gaze softening. He lifts his hand from William’s mouth. “Just tell me to stop.”

William draws in a breath, gasps out with an edge of panic, “Yes.”

“You want to stop? Are you sure?”

“I… I…” No, he’s not sure. And that should be a definite no, _right?_ But Gabe doesn’t seem to think so.

“Make up your mind, we don’t have all day.”

Terror grips William, clawing at his shoulders, telling him how disappointed Gabe would be if he told him to pull out now when instead William could get it over with and make up for last night’s disappointment in the car. “It’s fine, It’s fine. Keep going.”

This time, Gabe doesn’t ask if he’s sure. He says, “Alright,” and thrusts his hips back and into William. The sting causes a cry to leave William’s lips, a tear to blur his eyes, and his mouth is quickly covered again. “It’s okay, _mi amor,”_ he coaxes, like William’s a scared animal. “You’re doing so well, you’re doing so good. I’ll reward you later, okay? I know how hard this is without lube, but you’ll get used to it.”

William nods. The tear trickles down his cheek. Gabe thrusts into him again. Again. Again. Again. It hurts. William tells himself to breathe, Gabe tells him he’s doing just fine, whispers all sorts of things in Spanish about how _apretado y inocente y virginal y delgado y joven_ William is.

It takes longer for Gabe to find William’s prostate this time, but when he does, it’s immediate relief. William comes quickly, Gabe’s hand trapping his warm breaths and gasps, and luckily Gabe comes soon after, too. His movements slow, and even when he’s pulled out, William still aches. He wonders if it would be overreacting to go to the nurse’s office after lunch, to tell her he feels sick so he can go home. William could probably even make himself throw up if he had to, to really convince the nurse. After all, that’s what he did with breakfast, so he could stay _delgado_ for Gabe.

“You liked that?” Gabe asks sweetly, removing his hand from over William’s mouth.

“Yeah.”

“Good. You did so well, mi amor, you really did. Most kids your age probably couldn’t handle that.”

William knows Gabe’s right, because even _he_ couldn’t handle that, and _he’s_ supposed to be different.

William leaves Gabe’s classroom a few minutes before the bell is supposed to ring, mostly so he can sneak to the bathroom and brush his hair. It doesn’t look _terrible,_ but Gabe told him it would be better if he didn’t have to fret about it.

However, as William’s walking down the hallway, he passes Mr. Suarez holding a stack of papers. He stops. “William, right? Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Oh, um. Yeah, sure.” William stops, readjusting his backpack strap. “What’s up?”

“Could you come into my classroom for a moment?”

William nods, because he’s a teacher and thus he doesn’t have much of a choice. He follows Mr. Suarez into his classroom. Mr. Suarez lets the stack of papers fall onto his desk with a metallic _thud_ and turns to William.

“I know you’re not one of my students, but I just want to see how you’re doing with Mr. Saporta.”

William looks at him weirdly. “Why?”

“Last week, on the first day of school… I was walking past the classroom, and I saw him touching your shoulder.”

William’s eyebrows raise. He readjusts his backpack strap again, pulling it further up his shoulder. “Oh.”

“A teacher shouldn’t touch their students like that,” Mr. Suarez says. William knows he’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, _wrong._ Gabe’s different. William’s different. They’re an exception. “Has Mr. Saporta… _tried_ anything else? Has he touched you since then, said anything that unsettled you?”

William shakes his head. “No. It’s been fine. Mr. Saporta is completely normal, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mr. Suarez seems hesitant, but nods. “Okay, William. But if you ever need to talk to someone, my door’s always open, okay?”

“Thank you, Mr. Suarez. I’m okay, though, really, but thanks.” And William turns on his heel, leaves the classroom quickly before any more questions can be asked.

The parking lot is crusted with orange leaves, moist from a brief sprinkle of rain earlier. William meets his friends there, watching them hungrily as they finish off the last of their fries and milkshakes while leaning against Chizzy’s used car.

“Dude.” Mike points a fry at William before licking off the salt. “What happened with your hair?”

William’s eyes widen and he quickly reaches up, patting down any bits that are sticking up. Fuck, he’d forgotten to go to the bathroom to fix his hair. “Nothing,” he says, running his fingers down through to flatten the locks.

“You were with Gabe, right?” Chizzy asks.

“Y-- I mean, no.” William backtracks, shaking his head. “I didn’t. I wasn’t. I mean, I didn’t end up going.”

“I literally saw you in his classroom,” Sisky deadpans.

“Well, I-- I mean, I _did_ go, but then I left,” William lies. “To talk to Mr. Suarez. About Spanish club.”

“You’ve never been interested in Spanish club before.”

“Well, I wasn’t taking Spanish before,” William defends. “But now I am, and I want to join Spanish club. I don’t want to regret not trying it out.”

Butcher snorts. “You’re not gonna regret not doing _Spanish club_ in a year.”

“If you’re thinking of joining Spanish club, I’ll join, too,” Sisky says.

“Me too,” Mike says.

“I never said I was actually sure I’d go.”

“It was heavily implied.”

William’s stomach is dangerously close to growling, and he steals one of Mike’s few fries left, ignoring the annoyed look that’s shot at him as William starts to gnaw at the crispy top of the fry, savoring the way it falls on his tongue bit by bit. “Well, I still don’t know.”

“You’re acting weird, dude,” Sisky comments. Mike, Butcher, Chizzy all nod in agreement, and William’s eyes drop to his fry. “Is there something you wanna tell us? Is it something about your new _boyfriend_ you haven’t told us?” And then he teases, “Is _Gabe_ your boyfriend?”

William goes still. He’s frozen, shoes taking root through the cracks of the cement, his skin growing warm in spite of the fall chill in the air. He inhales, the whisps of air bare and cool on his tongue. “No,” he finally manages to mumble out, but his voice is weak. The barely-eaten fry slips out of his hand. The truth is evident, clear as the gray smog-like clouds that darken the school on a day like this. A drop of rain pelts William’s eyelash, another lands on his trembling finger and curves off his hand, leaving an icey streak of water.

Mike, Sisky, Butcher, and Chizzy all collectively stare at William.

“Oh my gosh,” Mike finally says. “You’re dating a _teacher?”_

William shivers. Everything is cold, so cold, so cold. Why’d he wear a t-shirt today? “I’m not.”

“Is that why your hair was…” Chizzy trails off, and William’s hand flies to his hair yet again, smoothing it again obsessively, fingers going through it again and again even though it’s really fine by now.

 _“No.”_ William tries to glare at them, but he knows it just looks pathetic. He couldn’t imagine if Gabe saw him right now, so small and desperate and unable to cover up what should be such an easy thing. “I’m not dating a teacher, for christ’s sake. That’d be so stupid.”

“William, it’s okay--”

Another drop of rain patters against William’s collarbone. “We’re not talking about this,” he states, and he turns around and storms into the school. His friends gather their backpacks and half-drank milkshakes, following in silence.

Once they’re in the hallway, a crack of thunder echoes outside, the wind battering against the doors while the bell rings and William heads to his next class. He only realizes how much he hurts from being fucked raw once he starts the long ascent up the staircase. It _hurts._ _Hurts so much_ William can only think about Gabe. If it wasn’t for the precarious situation William had just put himself in by being too weak, William thinks he would text Gabe to tell him how each moment of pain makes him think of him.

So he does text him that, and as William’s sitting down in class, he receives a text from Gabe in Spanish. **_Debes, eres mío, y te destruiré más, más, hasta que lo sabes, hasta que te encanta el dolor de mi verga._** When William copies and pastes it into Google translate, reading the unpoetic English translation still makes William’s entire body _burn,_ and the guilt that soon envelopes him only makes the burning intensify. William doesn’t deserve to be loved, so desired when he just potentially gave away the secret of their relationship.

William doesn’t see his friends until after school, when they rope him into coming over to Sisky’s house to talk. William doesn’t want to talk, but then suddenly twenty minutes have gone by since the last bell has rung. He’s sitting on a couch with Sisky’s treasured cat, Baby, kneading at his fleshy legs to find a good spot to lie down and inadvertently make William realize just how much fat lies on his thighs. Meanwhile, everyone else is concerned with getting the truth out of William, and William’s just trying to think about how he’ll eventually tell Gabe about this without making it sound like it’s his own fault.

“It’s obviously fine,” William tells them. He can’t completely deny anymore, instead turning to partial lies for solace. “Gabe’s not like other people. We haven’t even had sex yet. Just kissed. Nothing further than that.”

“How’d it happen, then?” Mike asks, crossing his arms and leaning back in the armchair he’s sitting in. “Any way you try to put it is going to sound fucking creepy. He’s a _teacher.”_

“I’m not telling you how it happened, then,” William says. “Besides, I’m almost eighteen, and the legal age of consent in Illinois is seventeen. He’s only seven years older.”

“That’s still a _massive_ gap,” Chizzy says, narrowing his eyes at him. “Like, you’re his student. There’s a power imbalance, no matter how hard you try to justify it.”

“You’re not going to tell anyone, will you?” William glances across all their faces, eyes wide and pleading. Baby stops kneading his legs and hops off his lap. William thinks even she’s probably decided he’s pathetic, just as Gabe will.

Everyone looks at each other, undecided as to what the best course of action is until Mike frowns and says, “If you’re right and he’s only kissed you, we won’t. I guess you’re right, that you are almost an adult even if this entire thing is kinda fucked.”

“But if he fucking does _anything,_ we’ll beat him up,” Sisky threatens, like he’s not just a lanky teenager whose stick arms are only good for playing guitar. “And we’re still gonna join Spanish club, to keep an eye on you two.”

William gives a grimacing smile. “It’s gonna be fine, guys. Don’t worry.” Well, it could be worse. Now, he walks a fine line, a balancing act of hiding the true nature of his and Gabe’s relationship, and already the pressure feels so much heavier. “So you all _promise_ not to tell? I… I just couldn’t let Gabe get fired because of me. He’s really not a creep, he does care about me.”

Everyone nods, albeit tentatively. A sigh of relief is expelled from William’s mouth.

And then they go outside, poke a dead and squashed rat down the street with a fallen tree branch until the water running through the gutter turns red. As strange as it sounds, watching a dead rat bleed is reassuring. It’s almost as if the conversation never happened, as if William’s a perfectly normal seventeen-year-old that isn’t dating his teacher.

Later that night, William calls Gabe. “I need to tell you something. Please, please, _please_ don’t be mad.”

Gabe sounds confused. “Mi amor, what is it?”

In one breath, “Myfriendsfoundoutaboutus.”

“How?” Gabe demands. _“How?_ I thought you said you were being careful.”

“I was, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Already, William’s voice is shaking, on the brink of tears. “They found out on their own. I’ll be more careful from now on, I swear. They said they wouldn’t tell, they understood that I’m an adult, and they don’t think we’ve had sex at all, just kissed. I told them the age of consent in Illinois is seventeen, they probably think they can’t do shit. I’m sorry, Gabe, I’m really sorry, I’m really fucking trying. They won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, and William blinks back a tear, begs, “Gabe, talk to me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Finally, Gabe asks, “Are you sure they won’t tell?”

“I’m sure,” William says. “After we talked about it, we went outside and kicked around a dead rat like nothing ever happened. If they were going to tell, they wouldn’t have acted so normal. They’re shitty actors.”

Gabe stifles a laugh. “Wait, you guys kicked around a _dead rat?_ Dios mío, kids these days.”

“It’s roadkill, it’s not like anyone ever cares about roadkill,” William says, although he’s secretly grateful for _that_ being the part of his spiel that Gabe has to question. But then again, now that he’s talking about it, it feels so _childish_ of a hobby. “I mean, I obviously don’t do it,” he says, even though at some point William took the stick and too started poking the rat. “I just watch. It’s gross. I’m better than that.”

“I believe you on that, don’t worry. I really can’t imagine you fucking around with roadkill. That really is gross. You’re way more mature than that.”

William purses his lips. “I am.”

“So, you’re really sure they won’t tell anyone? I can trust you on that? Because if rumours start going around…”

“I’ve known them for years. They really won’t tell anyone.”

“Good,” Gabe says. “That’s good.”

“Although, I should, um, tell you… I told them I was joining Spanish club, and now two of them are joining with me to keep an eye on us, I guess?”

“We’ll be more careful,” Gabe says, dismissing William’s mention as if it’s nothing to be worried about. “We probably won’t be able to fuck at school anymore. And we shouldn’t talk as much there, too.”

“That’s fine,” William easily agrees. Anything to keep this, _anything._

The Unit 1 test is on Monday. When the paper is slid in front of William with Gabe’s slender fingers, William immediately grabs his pencil, starts to circle and scrawl all the answers he’s now so sure of. The only time his eyes flicker up from the test is when Ryan starts to hyperventilate next to him, slaps Gabe’s sympathetic hand off the edge of his desk, and flees the classroom. After a brief wave of shock has rippled across the classroom, William goes back to his test and still finishes it brimming with confidence.

Although Gabe tells the class that the tests won’t be graded until Wednesday, he makes sure to text William that he graded his test first and received a one-hundred-percent. For the rest of the day, it spurs William into one of the best moods he’s had, as Gabe keeps texting him how proud he is, how much William’s improved, how _good_ William will be rewarded. He calls him _inteligente y talentoso, mi amor, mi vida, mi todo._

William’s light, airy feeling of pride continues for the rest of the day. With every text that comes from Gabe, William finds himself trying to hold back a smile in the middle of class. Even when Sisky and Mike are tagging along with William to the first Spanish club meeting after school, his great mood cannot be rid despite knowing he’ll have to be extremely, extremely careful with two sets of knowing eyes watching him.

Gabe greets them like any other students he has when they enter Mr. Suarez’s classroom, although William’s sure Gabe’s hand “accidentally” brushes against his as he passes by. Luckily, nobody but them notices that gesture, so small yet almost enough to make William nearly swoon into a seat at the back of the classroom.

There are about fifteen other students in attendance of the meeting. At the front of the room are the school’s four Spanish teachers. Besides Gabe, there’s Mr. Suarez, a considerably normal teacher; Ms. Asher, who William knows can hardly speak Spanish from one of Gabe’s midnight rants to him over the phone; and Mr. Blackinton, who refuses to teach anything other than honors classes and will often start speaking in a British accent for no reason at all.

“Buenas tardes, everyone,” Mr. Suarez says. “¡Bienvenidos al club de español! We’re all so excited to see some fresh and familiar faces in this classroom this year.”

The teachers start introducing themselves in Spanish, luckily going slow enough that William can at least understand a little bit of it. Gabe’s introduction is the only one William really only pays attention to, even if it’s the reused information he already told his class on the first day of school, about being born in Montevideo and bragging about having been in a few bands.

And then Ms. Asher does her introduction, and William knew she wasn’t great at Spanish, but damn, not this horrible. She makes all the classic mistakes Gabe’s told William she makes, using “Estoy” instead of “Soy” when she says her name, not rolling her r’s when talking about her _perros,_ and stumbling over practically every word as if even she's not sure what she’s saying. The other three teachers, especially Gabe, all furiously glare at her from behind, probably wondering how she got hired.

Finally, her introduction is over, and they start talking about the activities they have planned for the Spanish club, including going to a Mexican restaurant. Except Ms. Asher is the one talking about the restaurant, and even stumbles over saying _mexicano,_ her words instead coming out like, “restaurante m...may-hee-can-oh?”

However, the last straw is when she mispronounces _frijoles_ like “free holes?” and that seems to be about all Gabe can take, because he shoots up from his seat, snatches the list of the year’s planned activities from Ms. Asher, and spits, “I can take it from here, _thank you.”_

Ms. Asher shoots him an annoyed look. “What? I’m at least trying!”

“You had six years of university to try! What the hell is this?”

“Not all of us were born in Sudamérica!”

“For fuck’s sake, Vicky, even my Spanish 1 students can speak Spanish better than you!” For a split second, Gabe’s eyes dart to William by accident, and a hot fluster overtakes William’s cheeks that only Mr. Suarez seems to notice.

“But I spent a year in--”

“Nobody fucking cares you spent a year in Barcelona, because all you did there was skip class and go to the beach!”

“I did not!” Ms. Asher protests. Mr. Suarez and Mr. Blackinton look at each other, trying to decide whether it’s best to get involved. William can easily guess this has happened before.

“Oh, really? Then name at least _one word_ you learned there!”

Ms. Asher’s eyes are ablaze as she narrows them at Gabe. Under her breath, only audible to Gabe, she hisses, _“Pedófilo.”_

Gabe freezes, jaw dropping in horror of what she just said. The paper he holds flutters from his fingertips and to the floor. Ms. Asher only stares back at him, unwavering.

“You heard what I said,” Ms. Asher states coldly.

Gabe mutters angrily, “Go fuck yourself, _puta,”_ before he spins around and storms out of the classroom. The door slams behind him.

A terse silence blankets the entire classroom. Mike leans over his desk to whisper to William, “Did you hear what she said?”

As William shakes his head, his eyes don’t stray from where Ms. Asher stands smugly at the front of the classroom. Voice small, he whispers back to Mike, “No.”

The silence is finally broken when Mr. Suarez steps forward, picks up the activity sheet from the floor, and clears his throat. “Um… while we wait for Mr. Saporta to calm down, how about we talk about the Spanish cooking competition I’m thinking about doing in October? Anyone have any good recipes they want to suggest?”

And then William finds himself standing up. Nearly every head turns to him, and he mumbles, “I forgot something in my locker,” before picking up his backpack and rushing out of the classroom. It’s the most damning thing to be doing right now, and yet William can’t will his legs to stop.

William heads to Gabe’s classroom first, but it’s dark and the door is locked. He decides to try the teacher’s bathroom at the end of the hallway. Luckily, that door is unlocked, and William cautiously pushes it open. “Gabe?” he asks. “Are you in here?”

From the stall on the right, there’s a choked, “Yeah,” and the stall door is pushed open. Gabe’s sitting on the floor, knees pulled to his chest. His eyes are red and shiny, cheeks glistening with the streaks of tears. William sits next to him and pulls the stall door shut behind them.

William lays his palm gently on Gabe’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Gabe sniffles. “She called me a fucking _pedophile._ What the hell? Where’d she even get that from? I swear, she fucking knows _nothing._ I’m not even a pedophile! You’re _seven-fucking-teen.”_

William nods, rubs Gabe’s shoulder soothingly. “You are _not_ a pedophile at all. She’s just jealous you can actually speak Spanish.”

Gabe nods, another tear falling down his cheek. William wipes it away. “I’m just so pissed.” Gabe chokes out a laugh. “She thinks she has the right, calling me _un pedófilo?_ It’s absurd. So fucking absurd. Imagine if anyone else had heard that. I’d be so fucking screwed, she doesn’t even fucking know.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Gabe shakes his head, ripping off a wad of toilet paper to wipe his nose. “No te preocupes, mi amor, this is my fault.”

William’s eyes fall. “I…” His cheeks burn hot yet again. “I could… I could give you a blowjob, if that would make you feel better.”

Gabe hesitates, but eventually gives a slight nod. “Only if you want to.”

“I _do_ want to,” William reassures him. “It… It just might not be very good, though.”

“That’s more than okay, mi amor.” Gabe smiles, pressing a kiss to William’s cheek. “Dios mío, it’ll be so fucking hot to taste my cum on your lips.”

Gabe stands up, leaning his back against the stall partition as William gets on his knees and reaches up to tug down his zipper. He slowly pulls Gabe’s pants down, then his briefs, hoping the way his hands shake as he does it isn’t too noticeable. William’s heart pounds in his ears when Gabe’s cock is exposed to him, and already William is thinking, _oh fuck, I’m supposed to put that in my mouth?_ Practically nothing about it is different, but in this moment it’s suddenly a hundred times more intimidating.

But William can’t say no. He was the one who offered to do it, after all. It would be rude to back out, especially if Gabe was just crying. He has to get it over with eventually, right?

He presses a few kisses to the insides of Gabe’s thighs before he forces his tongue to run across his cock. Gabe shivers, grabbing at the strands of William’s hair and telling him, “Fuck, you’re good, _so good.”_

William takes a deep breath, tells himself he’s doing okay so far, that everything is just fine and he’s making a big deal out of nothing. He opens his mouth and slowly starts to take Gabe’s partially-erect cock into his mouth, running his tongue along the underside experimentally, trying to be careful to keep his teeth away. Gabe moans when William starts sucking, encouraging him, “Yes, _that, that,_ mierda,” and tugs at his hair harder. William can taste his precum on his tongue, salty and bitter.

Then Gabe can’t help but start to thrust his hips forward. His cock nearly hits the back of William’s throat, and William nearly chokes, quickly sliding his mouth off and letting out a sputtering cough into his hand. “Fuck,” William says, voice sounding almost hoarse, and he coughs again. “Could you try not to? My gag reflex is shit.”

“I’ll try, but you’re gonna have to get used to it.” Gabe shrugs, twisting a lock of William’s hair around his thumb. “It’s okay, though. Fuck, you’re so innocent.”

“Sure,” William murmurs, and he takes Gabe into his mouth again and keeps going. Just ten seconds later, Gabe’s hips accidentally jerk forward again, and William does his best to push down the cough in his throat despite his natural instincts. Gabe’s hips move again, and again, and even though William’s _trying so damn hard_ to get used to it, tears brim in his eyes from every gag he tries to choke down.

Gabe throws his head back against the stall, moaning, “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” and thrusts forward a few more times before his hips stutter, he cries, _“William, William,”_ and his cum fills William’s mouth. William doesn’t necessarily want to swallow it, his stomach slightly nauseous from not eating anything yet today, but he does anyway. All he can think is that he hopes he still has that toothbrush in his locker.

When Gabe’s climax is over, William slides his mouth off of his cock. The breath of air he inhales like a gasp is such a relief and the burning in his eyes slowly starts to subside. When he stands up, Gabe immediately grabs him by the chin and kisses him, tongue pressing into his mouth. “You did so fucking good for your first one,” Gabe tells him. “That was so fucking hot. Mierda, I can’t wait for you to do that for me again.”

William smiles weakly and wipes away a tear from his eye. 

Gabe leaves the faculty bathroom first, saying they’ll be less suspicious if they return to Spanish club a few minutes apart. William’s not sure whether it even matters in the first place if it’s already obvious enough, even to Ms. Asher, that’s something is going on, but he listens and lingers in the bathroom for a few minutes before cracking open the door and stepping out.

Waiting outside the bathroom is Mr. Suarez. He crosses his arms and asks, “William, what were you doing in there? That bathroom is teachers-only.”

“Sorry!” William quickly says. “Um… well, the door was unlocked, and the janitor was in the regular bathrooms, so I… came in here?”

“I know you were in there with Mr. Saporta.”

William’s eyes widen. “No! I mean, I was, but nothing happened. Really.”

Mr. Suarez tilts his head. “Really?”

“I wanted to see how he was doing, because I was on my way from my locker and heard him crying. He seemed really upset, that’s all.” And William doesn’t know why, but he finds himself tacking on, “And I’m straight.”

“William, if Mr. Saporta did anything, it’s okay--”

“Mr. Saporta isn’t doing _shit,”_ William insists, but realizes his defensiveness won’t get him anywhere. He inhales a breath and says calmly, “Look, it’s really fine, okay? I get you’re concerned, but Mr. Saporta’s fine. I’m fine. Really.”

Mr. Suarez seems to believe it, or at least pretends to for now as he nods hesitantly. “Okay. Just please be careful around him, okay? You shouldn’t be spending so much time around him.”

“Why?” William asks. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Look,” Mr. Suarez starts, uncrossing his arms and sticking one of his hands in his pocket. “There were… _rumours_ going around recently, that Mr. Saporta was… inappropriate with a student at the freshmen orientation this summer. Nothing was proven and the school dropped it, but you really should be careful of him, okay? I know you think he’s young and fun, but he’s your teacher, and he shouldn’t have touched your shoulder, regardless of whether that’s all he did.”

“Oh… I had no idea,” William mumbles. _Gabe?_ Touching a _freshman?_ There’s no way. It has to be a lie, a lie a freshman made up for attention. “I’ll be careful. Thank you, Mr. Suarez.”

William steps forward to walk past him, but then Mr. Suarez says, “You don’t need to go back to the club meeting if you don’t want to. There’s only ten minutes left, anyway.”

William stops, considers it, and says, “Thank you, Mr. Suarez, see ‘ya around,” before turning around to head down the opposite direction of the hallway, toward the staircase to leave.

The next morning’s Spanish class goes as normally as usual. Gabe assigns pairs to translate the list of Unit 2 vocabulary using the musty dictionaries left over from the last teacher who used this room. William ends up working with Ryan, pretending to flip through the dictionary even though he already knows most of the vocab thanks to Gabe.

As William writes down the meaning of _caminar,_ Ryan, who’s done nothing all period, suddenly asks, “Don’t you think Mr. Saporta’s so weird?”

“You can just call him Gabe, you know,” William says, flipping through the dictionary to look for the next word. “And not really. Why?”

“I don’t know.” Ryan glances to another group, where Gabe’s bent over the desk, leafing through their dictionary for a word they can’t find. There’s nothing at _all_ weird about it. It’s a completely innocuous gesture, and William’s not sure what Ryan sees in it. “I just get weird vibes from him.”

William stops flipping pages and looks up. “Weird vibes _how?_ All he does is teach us Spanish and show us old music videos of his band.”

Ryan opens his mouth to speak, but closes it and looks down. “Nevermind.”

William forgets about Ryan’s comment all too quickly.

Gabe drives William to his place again after school, and William spends the entire ride debating whether to ask Gabe about what Mr. Suarez told him. But there would be no point to it, right? William knows Gabe, and he would never do something like that, not to a _freshman._

When they enter Gabe’s apartment, Gabe shuts the door and suggests, “We should take pictures.”

William shrugs. They’ve already taken a few selfies together, selfies that would be completely unsuspicious if found. This isn’t a big deal. “Sure, why not?”

“But not just any pictures,” Gabe clarifies. William notices the hunger in his eyes, how he’s already undressing him in his head. “Would you be up for nudes?”

 _“Nudes?”_ William raises his eyebrows. “But… that’s illegal. I’m not eighteen yet, it’d technically be child pornography.”

“It’d only be on the cusp of it, it wouldn’t be enough for anyone to care, right? It’s not like anyone other than me would see it. I’ll keep the pictures safe, don’t worry. I don’t let anyone look at my phone but me. It’d be so hot, right, that I could jack off to you _any_ time I want?”

William nods. “I… I guess so.”

“Great!” With a wicked grin, Gabe slides his cellphone out of his pocket. “Take off your clothes, mi amor.”

William reaches down for the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head as he asks, “You’d delete the pictures if anything happened, right?”

“Of course, you don’t need to worry about it,” Gabe reassures him. “You’re completely safe with me.”

William shoves his jeans down his hips easily--they’ve gotten looser over the past week--and kicks his briefs off his ankles, leaving his body completely bare to Gabe’s prowling gaze. Gabe’s eyes grow wide, lustful, every flick across every inch of skin _devouring_ him.

Gabe holds up his phone, opening the camera, and instructs William how to pose. Leaning against the wall, laying down on the couch, sitting on the kitchen counter. The entire time, all Gabe can say is, “Fuck, your ribs in that pose look so good,” or “Mierda, you look so innocent _just like that.”_ William doesn’t feel very sexy, just cold, but is happy to receive the compliments, anyway.

As William leaps off from where he was sitting on the kitchen counter, Gabe’s eyes suddenly light up. “Wait, I have an idea!”

“What’s your idea?” William asks, thinking he’s merely about to suggest a different place to pose.

“I could take pictures of you while I grind on you. That’d be _amazing,_ right, pictures of you moaning for me?”

William is starting to consider the idea, but before he can make a solid decision, Gabe takes him by the hand and drags him toward the bedroom. He pushes William onto the bed, crawling over his legs and settling on his hips. Gabe ducks down for a brief kiss, pushing his tongue at his lips for a few seconds before he pulls back and grinds his hips down onto William as he lifts up his phone yet again, to capture the way William’s lips reddened from kissing part with a moan, the way his cheeks flush, the way his eyes flutter open.

Gabe snaps a few pictures of him like this as he continues to push his hips down against his, then lowers the phone and leans down to William. “I have another idea. You don’t need to go with it, though, if you don’t want to.”

“What?”

“We could take a video of us fucking.”

William’s eyes widen with incredulity, and he stammers, “Like… like _porn?_ Gabe, are you sure?”

“I’m only sure if you’re sure,” he says. “Come on, it’d be so hot. Imagine,” Gabe lowers his lips to William’s ear, breath hot as he speaks, “if I got hard just thinking about you one night, and I pulled out that video to jerk off to. That’d be so fucking hot, right?”

“I mean… I guess…”

“So you’re okay with it?”

Slowly, William nods. “Yeah.”

Gabe pulls back from his ear, beaming, and leans over to prop up his phone against a tissue box on the nightstand. One hand is positioned over the bright red record button, the other sliding up the valleys of William’s ribs. “You ready for me to press record, mi amor?”

William closes his eyes. He can feel his entire face heating up, probably blushing as red as a tomato. “Yeah.”

Gabe taps the phone screen, and then he reaches back, bowing his head down to cover William’s mouth with his. One thought runs through William’s mind as his head tips back, as Gabe’s lips press hard and quick against his, and that thought is, _why the hell did I agree to this? It’s a mistake, it’s such a mistake, we shouldn’t be filming this._ Yet, the only noise William makes is a moan as he feels the fabric of Gabe’s pants against his cock while he grinds down on him.

William has a chance to say no, to stop all of this when Gabe finally pulls back to unzip his own pants. But William doesn’t. He knows logically he should, and yet there’s something keeping his mouth shut.

Gabe shifts himself off William’s hips to take off his pants and underwear, tossing the clothing off the bed and then landing back on William with a forceful roll of his hard cock against William’s. “You want me to fuck you, _mi amor?”_

“Yes,” William finds himself crying out. He doesn’t know why he does. He should stop. He should tell Gabe to stop. This is a mistake. It’s a mistake. It’s a _mistake._ Tears swell in his eyes. William tries to blink them away, but they trickle down and streak his cheek anyway.

Gabe doesn’t notice the tears until he’s grabbed the lube. “Mi amor, are you okay? Why are you crying?”

William chokes back a sob, wipes the wetness off his face. “I’m fine, just keep going. Maybe it’s allergies.”

“Are you sure? This is still okay?”

William nods desperately. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. It’s fine! You can fuck me. I want you to.”

“Good. I promise I’ll make you feel better, okay?”

William nods, tries to forget about the phone that’s recording them a few feet away and instead focus on the sharp coldness of the lube on Gabe’s fingers as he stretches him. He starts to shiver uselessly, grinding his teeth to keep them from chattering. Gabe apologizes for how cold the lube is, rubs his non-lubed hand along William’s arms to warm him up, but those fingers are still just as freezing.

“I’m good now,” William says, after Gabe’s fingers have been in him for hardly half a minute. “Your cock will probably be warmer, right?”

“If you’re sure about that, I can fuck you now, then,” Gabe says, removing his fingers. “You just might be a little tight.”

 _Just as you like it,_ William almost wants to snark, but he stays quiet. As Gabe pushes into him , William wraps his arms around his neck. Gabe doesn’t say anything about how nails scrape and press hard into his skin, just lets William moan, “Cógeme, _cógeme,_ Gabe, I need you.” Another tear falls from William’s eye. Gabe notices it, but he still doesn’t say anything and thrusts himself into William with a low groan.

William doesn’t know why, but he’s on the brink of breaking down crying. He swallows down another sob that threatens to leave his throat and closes his eyes tight as Gabe keeps fucking him. William doesn’t want to ruin the video by bursting into tears; that’d hardly be hot or mature.

It’s when William climaxes that he breaks, when he wails and starts sobbing. “It’s just _that_ good,” he lies to Gabe through his shaking voice.

Later, after they’ve cleaned up, they curl up underneath the bed covers and start to scroll through the pictures. Gabe points to nearly each one, saying, “William, your legs look so thin in that one, I love it,” or “Those _lips,_ damn it,” and a variety of other things about every photo. Then they reach the video and watch it together. William watches it in fear, worried Gabe will hate that, that all that effort will be for nothing.

Instead, Gabe is mesmerized by the video, even at the part when William had started crying when he came. “That was _so_ hot, Dios mío,” Gabe says, twisting around to plant a kiss on William’s lips. He puts down the phone, hand snaking under the sheets to wrap around William’s cock. “We gotta fuck _again,_ right fucking now, _mierda.”_

This time, William doesn’t cry. This time, he enjoys it. William almost feels silly for crying earlier, for what had come over him. Because everything is clearly fine if he can enjoy this, right?

The next week, on Thursday night, is the Spanish club field trip to the Mexican restaurant. On the bus ride there, William stares out the rain-speckled window and offers only vague answers to Sisky and Mike’s lighthearted questions to try to get him to talk. As of late, they’ve noticed how unusually silent William can be sometimes. He doesn’t even speak a word anymore when they go out to kick around roadkill, or even take the stick or kick at the squashed animal. He always refuses to talk about Gabe, too. When pressed, he’ll always just say, “He’s good.”

But William has told all of his friends that he’s not quiet because of Gabe. No, it’s a completely different reason, a reason that doesn’t have to do with the fact Gabe _still_ fucks him without lube at school because he just can’t help it despite the danger, or with the fact that he’s recently taken to sending William nudes and William feels obligated to send more of himself in return, or with the fact Mr. Suarez shoots William worrisome looks whenever he interrupts Gabe’s Spanish 1 class more than he probably has to, probably to keep an eye on him.

William thought this was perfect. It’s not. It’s like any other relationship, it’s hard sometimes. But it’s still different, and William still likes this, and William still likes Gabe.

William’s head is pounding as he walks through the doors of the restaurant. He hadn’t eaten dinner yesterday, and especially not breakfast or lunch today, in preparation for all the calories he’d probably eat here. He needs to stay _delgado_ for Gabe, needs to have _costillas_ for Gabe. It’s a small sacrifice to make for love, he thinks.

At the restaurant is finally when William starts talking to Sisky and Mike, cracking a smile as Mike makes a joke about a needlessly-complicated Government project while they open their menus. Gabe is at the opposite end of the long table they all sit at with the rest of the Spanish teachers, but even with the distance, William still catches his eyes flicking up from his menu toward him, his coy smiles that send a shot of warmth through William’s heart.

“You guys make it _so_ obvious,” Sisky mutters. William elbows him and laughs.

“Shut up, dude.” A nervous grin hides William’s fear.

William ends up ordering a salad. When William tells the waitress that, Mike remarks, “Damn, dude, do you ever eat anything?”

“I _do_ eat!” William insists, and he catches Gabe’s glance from across the table, a worried frown falling on his face. Uh oh. William has no doubt he heard what Mike said, and that’s confirmed a few seconds later when Gabe sends him a text, **_You ok?_** William quickly reassures him, **_Yep._**

Gabe glances down to read the text, looks back up at William dubiously, and then texts back, **_Meet me in the bathroom in a minute._** Then Gabe slides his cellphone back into his pocket and stands up, walking to the back of the restaurant where the bathrooms are.

William lets exactly a minute pass by, then turns to Sisky and Mike and says, “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Sisky raises his eyebrows. “What, because Gabe’s in there? I thought you said you weren’t--” but he doesn’t finish, because William’s already walking away from them.

Before he steps into the bathroom, William braces himself, expecting Gabe wants to talk to him about Mike’s comment about how he never eats. Instead, as soon as Gabe sees him, his lips crash against William’s, tongue sweeping across his mouth before Gabe pulls away for a breath and asks, “Do you not eat for _me?”_

William stutters, “Well… I… um…”

“That’s so incredibly hot,” Gabe tells him. “Fuck, I love you, I _love_ you.” And he kisses him again, before William even has the chance to process that Gabe just told him _he loves him._

Through the kiss, William finds his lips moving slower than he tries, his legs weakening. His eyes flit open just a second, wondering _what the fuck_ is going on with his body, but then black dots appear in his vision, growing and swallowing up his surroundings fast. William’s hands claw for Gabe’s shoulders, he’s starting to veer when Gabe grabs his wrists to keep him up. “Mi amor, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” William mutters. His head is pounding again. “Maybe… maybe I just need to eat.”

Gabe nods. “Well, until the food gets to the table…” He guides William toward the bathroom counter and lifts him up. “Let’s occupy ourselves in other ways, hm?”

William nods eagerly, and Gabe parts his knees to step between them and kisses him again. However, a few moments in, William has the unfortunate luck of his cellphone’s ringing interrupting them. “Sorry,” William mumbles, breaking away from the kiss. “Someone’s calling me.”

“Who?”

William tugs his cellphone out of his pocket. “It’s… Ryan?”

“Ryan?” Gabe asks. “Ryan Ross? Why is _he_ calling you?”

“I don’t even know, I forgot I had his number. Maybe he needs help with the homework.” William answers the call and lifts the cellphone to his ear, using his other hand to push aside a lock of hair that’s in the way. “Ryan, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry… it’s just that, I need to talk to you about something important. It’s about Mr. Saporta.”

William’s eyebrows raise, and he covers the phone speaker as he hisses to Gabe, “He says it’s about you?” Gabe furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and William uncovers the speaker. “Why do you need to talk to me about Gabe?”

“I know you’re hooking up.”

William freezes. “What do you mean?”

“A while ago… I saw your car parked down the street from my house. I saw you guys kissing.”

William purses his lips, unpurses them. “Oh.”

“Listen to me, you _shouldn’t_ be with him. I know this might be hard to believe, but… did you ever hear the rumours, that he touched a freshman during freshmen orientation?”

William sucks in a breath. A cold lie of “No. I haven’t,” leaves his tongue bitterly.

“Well, that was me. It was during the foreign language department presentation, he and I started talking and… he told me we should go somewhere private, to keep talking. And I was so _stupid._ And you know what he did? He started… he…” A choking sound is emitted from the back of Ryan’s throat, as if he’s about to cry. “He stuck his hand down my pants and asked if I was a virgin. And I pushed him away and ran.”

“No.” William leans his head back against the mirror, blinking back tears. “He wouldn’t do something like that. You’re fucking _lying._ If he did that to you, why are you still in his class?”

“It was either him or Ms. Asher for Spanish 1. The school didn’t believe me, so they didn’t even let me try to switch to French.”

“You’re a damn _liar,_ ” William spits. “You fucking bastard. You’re lying. You’re just _jealous.”_

“I’m not, I’m--”

Gabe holds out his hand. “Let me take care of this, mi amor.” William easily hands over the phone, and Gabe’s demeanor changes in an instant as he threatens Ryan, “Look, you can either shut the fuck up or you can fail my class, you little _whore._ What’s your choice?”

A few seconds later, Gabe hands the cellphone back to William, a victorious smirk plastered across his face. “He hung up. Fucking coward.”

William breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks. Did you… it didn’t actually happen, right?”

“Of course not,” Gabe gently tells him, placing his hand on William’s thigh and stroking up and down soothingly. “You don’t have a thing to worry about. He’s just as you said, _un mentiroso._ Now, let’s go eat, hm?”

Friday afternoon, during lunch, William walks in with a lunch pass to see Gabe’s pacing around his classroom.

“I’m sure I’ll find it again _eventually,”_ he reassures William, although it more seems like a reassurance to himself. “I just have no idea how I lost it. I _never_ lose my phone. Fuck, what if someone sees the photos? The _video?”_

“Nobody’s going to see it, nobody knows the password,” William tells him, although he’s secretly panicking just as much on the inside. If those photos and the video are discovered, they’re screwed-- _so_ screwed. “Maybe you left it in your car?”

“No, I _swear_ I saw it this morning.” Gabe nearly walks into his own desk, but manages to stop himself and turns back around to keep pacing the aisles of desks. “I texted you before class, didn’t I?”

“You did,” William says. “Could it have slipped under your desk? Or in a drawer?”

“I already checked, I’ve checked _everywhere_ in the classroom, and it’s not here. I’m stupid, I’m so _stupid.”_

“It’s not your fault.” William gets up from the radiator he’s been sitting on, taking a few steps toward Gabe and laying his hand on his shoulder to stop his pacing. “You’ll find it eventually. We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

Gabe takes a deep breath and smiles, chuckling, “Damn, I wish I could believe you.”

“Let me at least make you feel better,” William says, sliding his hand down toward the zipper of Gabe’s pants and tilting his head up to raise his lips close to his ear. “Cógeme. You can take out all the stress on me, okay?”

For a moment, there’s only silence, and William feels a pang of regret, that he must have done something wrong before Gabe’s snatching him by his shoulders, pushing him against the wall and sticking his tongue into his mouth. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, baby,” Gabe hisses, and he reaches up to William’s hair and yanks sharply, slamming the back of William’s head against the back of a whiteboard. “I’m not even gonna fucking stretch you, you’re gonna be _so_ tight like you’re a damn virgin again, and you’re gonna burn _so fucking good.”_

William isn’t sure if this is what he meant by letting Gabe take out his stress on him, but he supposes he can bear it just as well as he bears everything else, so he shuts his eyes. “Yes, please, _fuck me.”_

 _“Español,”_ Gabe growls, grabbing William’s hair and slamming the back of his head again against the whiteboard. William gasps at the impact, but still ends up breathlessly crying out, “Cógeme, cógeme!”

Gabe shoves William’s pants down, spits into his hand and wraps it around William’s cock, starting off pumping rapidly rather than building up to a rhythm. “I’m gonna make you come _again_ and _again_ and _again,_ you damn slut. Is that what you want, you want to get what you fucking deserve, for prancing around here with your skinny-ass body?”

William moans, lost in the heat of the moment. “Yes, yes, _please.”_

The classroom door swings open.

Gabe’s hand flies away, William shrieks and struggles to pull his jeans back up to his waist, but it’s too late; they’ve been caught. Mr. Suarez is standing in the doorway, clutching Gabe’s cellphone in his hand and staring ruthless _daggers_ at Gabe. Behind him, stands Ms. Asher and Mr. Blackinton, both equally infuriated and shocked, mouths hanging open.

“What the hell is this?” Mr. Suarez roars. “You’re fucking a _student?_ You really are a damn pedophile!”

“I can explain!” Gabe cries out, as William defends, “He’s _not_ a pedophile! I’m seventeen, it’s legal!”

“Well, _child pornography_ isn’t fucking legal,” Mr. Suarez growls, holding up Gabe’s cellphone. “A student saw it on your phone. What the fuck do you have to _say_ for yourself, Gabe?”

“I… It’s _not!”_ Gabe tries to say, although he knows just how hopeless the situation is. He points to William. “He’s almost eighteen!”

“He’s your damn student!” Mr. Blackinton yells. “You were taking advantage of him!”

“He’s not!” William yells. He leans back against the whiteboard and grips the edge, biting down on his bottom lip. A strangled sob spills from his mouth as Gabe’s shoulder is snatched roughly by Mr. Suarez and Mr. Blackinton, dragging him away from William despite Gabe’s desperate cries to, “Listen, just _listen_ to me!”

Ms. Asher’s question of, “Are you okay?” goes in one ear and out the other. The pale green walls spin around William dizzyingly. _Why won’t they understand?_ he thinks.

William calls her every swear word he knows, even the ones that he’s never dared to say out loud, but it doesn’t change anything.

Gabriel Eduardo Saporta, after only having taught for a number of weeks, is arrested only minutes after the confrontation with his former fellow Spanish teachers. He’s immediately fired from the school, immediately pressed with charges.

William tries to defend him. He really does. But everyone treats him like he’s a _victim,_ everyone but Gabe. The moment their sorrowful and sympathetic eyes meet, William’s awash with a mix of relief to see him one more time, but heavy shame it has to be _here,_ a courtroom.

Even though William’s parents had begged him, tears in his eyes, to tell the court just what _that monster_ had done to him, William doesn’t meet their eyes as he leaves his seat to go and testify. Instead, he makes eye contact with Gabe one last time and lies about nearly everything to tip the scale in Gabe’s favor. Even if the decision is already made, William won't let Gabe go down like this.

The photos, the _video_ are no longer for Gabe and William’s eyes only, used as evidence. William suddenly wishes he hadn’t cried, as if that would make any difference in the eventual ruling, as if they would make his parents any less embarrassed of him.

Gabe pleads innocent.

With the entire situation going on, William’s allowed to drop Spanish and is exempt from the credit needed to graduate. He spends his new free period sulking around outside even as the bitter cold of late autumn begins to set in. He paces around the track, burning as many calories as he can to keep his ribs for when he’s eventually reunited with Gabe. As he walks, he thinks about how this all his fault and how he could have avoided all this, about how if he’d just tried a little harder to tell Gabe it was _technically_ child pornography, maybe this all could have been avoided.

It feels like a cruel twist of fate, that their relationship was doomed from the start. It had only been a matter of weeks before they’d been found out, like it should have never happened at all.

William is hanging out with his friends outside of school for the first time in several weeks. His therapist thought it’d be fun. His therapist thought it’d be good for him to act his age, enjoy being young. William fucking hates his therapist. The guy doesn’t know shit about him or Gabe.

So William is on Sisky’s couch, Baby asleep in his lap as he and Chizzy watch Mike, Butcher, and Sisky play another game of Mario Kart. William’s not really paying attention. He’s too busy thinking of how he’ll get in contact with Gabe the minute he turns eighteen. Gabe mentioned something about having a brother, maybe he could help, maybe he would understand.

“Bill?” Butcher’s voice shakes William from his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed they’d already finished their Mario Kart race and shut off the console. “We’re gonna try to find some roadkill, you wanna come?”

“It’s too damn cold,” William mutters, stroking Baby’s silken fur.

“You can borrow one of my jackets,” Sisky says.

“Roadkill’s stupid. I’ll stay here with Baby.”

“Let me guess,” Mike says. “It’s not _mature.”_

“It’s not,” William finds himself mumbling. A little louder but still distracted by petting the cat, he says, “And it’s gross.”

“So is fucking a teacher, but that didn’t stop you.”

William’s eyes dart up. “And you didn’t stop me, either.” Immediate regret crosses Mike’s expression, but before he can apologize, William gently pushes Baby off his lap and stands up. “I’m going home. Night.”

As William walks home, he decides to take the long way, trailing through the street where a few months ago, Gabe had kissed William in the utter darkness before he drove him home. William hops off the curb, onto the cement where Gabe’s car had once parked, where the tires had once rolled over. He closes his eyes, tries to imagine himself there with Gabe again. He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, trying to recreate that specific feeling of when Gabe had done the same, pulled and let it snap back.

“William?”

William’s eyes shoot open, his teeth release his bottom lip. Ryan’s standing on the sidewalk behind him. _Right,_ William remembers, Ryan lives here, Ryan had been the one to see them kiss. Ryan’s the reason they were caught, the one who had stolen Gabe’s cellphone, took advantage of a glitch to look through his camera roll and then show it to Mr. Suarez. 

Obviously, William and Ryan haven’t talked since that day.

“What the hell do you want?” William demands. “You already ruined me and Gabe’s fucking lives. Do you know how _humiliating_ it was, knowing how many people saw those pictures of me _naked,_ that they saw that video of Gabe and I _fucking?”_ His voice becomes hoarse, choking up with tears. “You’ve ruined fucking _everything.”_

“He’s a damn pedophile,” Ryan states, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “And he’s getting what he deserves.”

“He is _not_ a pedophile.”

Ryan narrows his eyes at William. “Did he call you skinny, too? _Innocent?_ Did he get off to how tight your virgin ass was?”

“You don’t get it.”

“I do get it, he said all that shit to me.” Ryan takes a step off the sidewalk and sits down on the curb. “He would have dumped your ass as soon as you gained a couple of pounds, or got a wrinkle, or cut your hair--”

William bristles. He refuses to glance down at Ryan, instead crossing his arms and staring off at a few skeletal trees in the distance. “Gabe’s not that superficial. He wouldn’t. He said he loved me.”

“I’m sorry, William.” Ryan’s voice softens. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But you need to get it through your thick skull that he didn’t really give a shit about you.”

William grinds down his heel, dried leaves crunching under his shoe. “You’re just jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Ryan says. “I’m just not stupid.”

William storms off home after that and locks himself in his room. Instead of eating dinner, he finds Gabe’s brother’s phone number. He tells him who he is and tries to explain that he needs to talk to Gabe, even if it’s just a short message passed along, but Gabe’s brother cuts him off.

“You ruined his fucking _life,”_ he snaps. “Don’t you fucking dare try to talk to any of us ever again.”

And then he hangs up.

Slowly, over the next few months as winter sets in, things slowly return to normal. Sure, William can’t look Ryan in the eye knowing what he’s seen, and his parents don’t trust him to be out past dark, and Mr. Suarez still incessantly finds William in the halls to ask how he’s been doing. Despite all that, though, William starts confiding in his therapist bit by bit.

But even so, William still romanticizes the relationship in his mind. Maybe it wasn’t entirely perfect, but the nicer memories resurface much more often than the less pleasant ones.

And then Gabe is ruled to be not guilty. _Innocent._ Because, the judge reasons, it’s barely child pornography if William technically consented and was _close enough_ to eighteen, wasn’t he?

It’s the outcome William knew he wanted, but as soon as he hears his mother spew out the words in complete and utter vile shock, there’s something about it that’s so wrong, so infuriatingly _wrong._

Gabe can’t be innocent. He can’t be. Everything floods back, the agonizing sting of being fucked without lube and the frightened tears of knowing taking the video was a mistake. William races up the stairs to his bedroom, hides under the covers and sobs.

It’s February 11th, William’s eighteenth birthday. By now, he doesn’t think about what eighteen means. Instead, he orders pizza and he and all his friends watch the shittiest movies they can find. Then, despite the freezing cold, they decide to go outside and find roadkill. For old time’s sake.

Pretty quickly, they find a dead possum the street over, lying limp on a sheet of ice. They grab a fallen pine branch, and Butcher gets to be the first one to poke and prod at it, the fur easily coming loose and organs squelching out. With the rest of his friends, William grimaces and laughs in disgust as the dead possum’s body comes loose. Another poke of the stick reveals a few maggots squirming from underneath the possum’s eyelids, and everyone jumps back, screaming, _“Ew,_ what the _fuck?”_

Even with a disgusting mound of dead possum right in front of him, William is still grinning. He doesn’t have to worry about being mature, he doesn’t have to worry about what Gabe would think. In a strange way, it’s serene to be messing around with roadkill in the middle of the night, watching chunky guts splat onto ice lit under the dim street lights.

As they keep poking at the possum, William’s cellphone starts ringing. He slides it out of his pocket and sees it’s an unknown local number. He tells everyone else, “I gotta take this,” and walks a few feet away, a safe distance from the audible jeers at the roadkill before picking up the call.

William raises the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

For a second, there’s silence, and William nearly hangs up before he hears, “Happy birthday.”

William’s jaw drops. Even if it’s been months, he’d recognize the sultriness of that voice anywhere. “You… you’ve got to be kidding me,” he sputters out. “Gabe? Is that you? I blocked your number!”

“I just got a new one. My phone was taken as evidence, anyway. So, you’re eighteen now, right? How’s your birthday going? Anything fun?”

William shivers, and it’s not because of the cold. “Why are you calling me?”

“I know it’s been months, but I can’t stop thinking about you,” Gabe says. “And now you’re an adult. We can do whatever the hell we want together. I love you, _mi amor._ Come on, let’s pick up where we left things off.”

“Gabe--”

“We could run away,” Gabe suggests. “We could fly to whatever country you want, I could still teach you Spanish--”

“Or you could _fuck off,”_ William fires back. “Forget my damn number. Get some fucking help, you… you sick fucking _pedophile!”_

William jabs _end call_ before Gabe can even have a chance to tempt him. For a minute, he almost feels guilty, that maybe he should call back and apologize, maybe try to make things better this time.

But then a satisfaction simmers in William’s veins. He told Gabe just exactly how he feels about him now, and it’s the opposite of love. As Gabe attempts to call him again, William lets his celllphone go to voicemail with a small smirk as he shoves it into his pocket and walks back over to his friends.

“Can I have a turn?” William asks, holding out his hand.

Butcher shrugs and hands him the stick. “It’s your birthday, after all.”

William’s phone keeps vibrating, vibrating, as he takes the stick and pokes at the dead possum, peeling the rotten flesh back and letting innards drop.

He has much better things to do on his eighteenth birthday than Gabe, and those better things are poking roadkill.

**Author's Note:**

> That was a whole ride, wow. If anyone would be interested in a multi-chapter fic somewhat like this, let me know, because there's a lot of themes I didn't really get to explore as much as I would like to since it's only 22k words. It probably wouldn't be for a couple of months if I did, though, but if there's interest I totally will.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this... as much as you can enjoy something like this.


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